


The Peorth is Ever the Play and Laughter

by SignatureDish



Category: Ghost Hunt, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clueless Harry, Crossover, Gen, Ghosts, John is a cinnamon roll, Mystery, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts, Supernatural - Freeform, certain details from the hp books have been altered, duh - Freeform, gratuitous runology, harry goes on spr cases, harry is dealing with his shit, harry is not technically part of the SPR, harry/john bromance, just working my own angle, not really worth their own tags, original cases to fill time skips, runemaster!harry, runology, under the same name and author, wandering harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 85,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignatureDish/pseuds/SignatureDish
Summary: As a nineteen year old Runemaster in a post-Voldemort peace, Harry's constantly itching for a challenge. He usually finds it in Asia, inventing runic glyphs to fight off ghosts even if spiritualism isn't his specialty. Taking interesting and unexplainable cases, it was only a matter of time before he bumped into the SPR.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from Fanfiction.net. I have already published seven chapters on that site and am working on the next one.  
> I also have a tumblr account if you're curious- still working on it. It's under my author name. I'll put the link somewhere later.  
> I will respond to questions and PMs, but please look on my ff.net posted story to see if I answered it there first.

Harry always had a fondness for runes.

The love affair began shortly after the Triwizard Tournament's First Task, inspired by his success using a broom instead of a wand to get past the dragon. For so many years he'd been in utter awe over his wand and its magic, a symbol of another world where he had friends and triumphs.

But in that moment, as he soared past dragon fire, his adoration for the holly wand and its spells faded. Harry was able to tear himself away and look at the whole of magic in all its different forms with a level gaze.

He'd thumbed over several branches, skipping past potions the quickest and mulling over wandless magic the longest, before he found his favorite. Runology was difficult and finicky, and the amount of memorization could put a strain on even Hermione. But activating runes felt like catching the snitch, a rush of cold air in his face and exhilaration in his veins.

He'd poured over countless books and wasted ridiculous amounts of wood and paper on failed experiments, but it was more than worth it when he first managed to bind a rune to his parchment and set it alight.

Unfortunately, there hadn't been an opportunity to truly put his branch to the test during the Tasks, not when he had been a fresh novice who required time and patience for every symbol he managed.

But Harry had practiced that summer, armed with a small knife and stack of books, he'd carved rune after rune into the ground behind the park. He chanted each rune's verse until they came to him by heart, and poured his magic into his inscriptions until they stopped spitting back at him.

By the middle of Sixth Year, Harry could bind runes together and managed a layered triad after two months of work. He proudly etched them into his bedpost and cast a thrumming protection glyph over his bed that wouldn't fade so long as it remained intact. The success ate at his magic like nothing else, and Harry practically crawled down for dinner, but he had never slept so soundly as he did that night.

For all that he enjoyed it, Runes had just been a hobby then. It was something he could use to take his mind off of Voldemort, and Dumbledore, and the Ministry. Harry hadn't been particularly skilled and he didn't bother using it on things he could do well enough with magic when he wasn't practicing.

Harry hadn't considered it as something he could dedicate his life to until he was on the run in a forest for most of his seventeenth year. Suddenly it was one of his most precious skills, a literal lifesaver on more than one occasion when Snatchers and werewolves flooded the forest and only his runes held up against the waves of  _ Finites _ .

With Hermione's full support, Harry studied feverishly for improvements, desperate to give them even the tiniest of edges against the overwhelming odds. He improved by leaps and bounds with another person to swap stanzas with and debate theories over. While Hermione proved herself to be a quick learner, it was Harry who managed a six-rune glyph set on their tent that turned it into a fortress on par with Grimmauld Place.

The attempt had cost him enough magic to put him under for three days, but Harry would do it again in a heartbeat. From the second he opened his eyes, Harry was only eager to learn more, and strove to grow until he could achieve full sets without nearly killing himself in the process.

Harry got his opportunity after the Final Battle of Hogwarts, after the parades and funerals hand in hand.

For all that he adored runes, Harry had every intention to become an auror with Ron after the war. Fighting was all he knew now, and it felt right. That dream had been snatched away in one fell swoop by a pale-faced Madam Pomfrey and two wide-eyed mediwizards the moment he woke up after the battle.

Harry should have been more upset, he was upset. But the bitter sorrow they all expected never came. The  _ Avada Kedavra _ Voldemort blasted him with had bitten deep and scarred immediately. It wasn't the half-hearted flash of green light that Voldemort thought would do for an infant, it had been a curse brimming with hatred and desperation that had barrelled into his body, and the difference was vicious.

Harry wasn't crippled, but the ugly scar stretched from his left shoulder to his right hip, had burrowed itself into the joint. A crooked lightning bolt to match the one finally healing on his forehead.

Harry could live his life without medication or constant pain after being hit point-blank by another killing curse. He was ridiculously lucky and no amount of pitying looks would convince him otherwise. However, he couldn't run and fight with a hip subject to bouts of arthritis and stiffness, not well enough to duel Death Eaters anyway. Mad-Eye's own leg injury had been the one to finally land him in retirement.

A duelist had to duck and twirl with swift surety. A constant crouch to maintain agility was one of the best stances to use, and Harry couldn't do that for more than five minutes before the burning started and his leg weakened.

Harry could taste the sour frustration and disappointment at the back of his throat when they told him he couldn't hold a career as physically demanding as an auror. He didn't need so many details and platitudes, he understood the moment Pomfrey had explained the damage. Harry just wished they'd stop talking and leave.

Harry was an adult, he had just survived a war that should've killed him. He could handle the disappointment and move on with his life without so much fuss. But Harry wasn't the only one who needed to accept his newfound limitations, and he was willing to hold off on his newly forming plans for now.

Harry allowed Ron to whine and growl for him, disappointment and anger in spades. The redhead wasn't known for his emotional sensitivity and no one was surprised when he took his feelings out  harried healers who  _ weren't trying hard enough. _

Harry weathered Hermione's long-winded tests and hypotheses as she tried her best to do what trained professionals could not. She'd completed enough research on curse scars that she could've become a specialist, and angrily lectured the potion masters and surgeons with the finest jargon.

Neville and Luna weren't his only former classmates to stop by and express their sadness for his loss either. All of Gryffindor visited one time or another across the duration of his stay, frustrated scowls and wobbly lips abound.

He wouldn't hurt his friends' feelings because of his own impatience, he waited until they had sunk down into sad acceptance a few months later before finally  _ finally  _ acting.

Harry checked himself out of St. Mungo's three months after the war and immediately buried himself into his runes. They would soothe him once more, as they had over the summer and between calamities. Harry certainly wasn't happy his path had been limited just as he'd finally picked a future for himself, but there were worse fates.

He went to the Ministry and subjected himself to a twenty-page write up and six hours of practical exams for a license and the title of Runemaster. The Ministry was in such chaotic shambles that he doubted any surviving higher-ups even knew he had come, the press certainly weren't alerted. Harry slept away the entire weekend and came out the following Monday to hunt down a job.

* * *

 

Clients varied wildly for Harry, he was a popular choice in the Wizarding World and found all sorts of work for runology. Some were rich nobles seeking love forecasts, others were entrepreneurs wanting prosperity blessings. There were people who wanted protection runes for their children and wards on family estates. Harry had even been hired by the Malfoys to renew their manor's numerous glyph sets after the damage Voldemort had put them through. It had been a fantastic opportunity to study how meticulously layered each glyph was without linking them and overwhelming the runemaster.

His business wasn't only in England either, as Harry's reputation as a runemaster found its way into the ears of people who didn't know about the Boy-Who-Lived, he was called to different countries entirely. America, Australia, almost every country in Europe, but his favorites were the distant ones.

With their own batch of problems and dangers, it was a challenge to find the right combination of runes to fit  a need. Particularly Asian countries, with their plethora of spiritual and mythological creatures that were practically impervious to a rune's physical properties. The pay wasn't particularly impressive in those areas, but the experiences more than made up for it.

It was the main reason he'd accepted a request from a muggle school principal in Japan. He didn't have many connections and the problem wasn't very exciting, but Harry was game. The man had worked hard to contact him and Harry wanted to make a bigger name for himself there.

He'd mailed Ron and Hermione about his latest job so they wouldn't worry, and flooed to the Japanese Ministry with a duffle bag and a smile.

* * *

 

The abandoned schoolhouse had enough ghost stories to fuel rumors for years to come, if any one of them were true Harry was in for a rough ride.

Suicides, car-crashes, ghostly sightings, halted constructions- a surprising amount of mayhem for such a quiet town.

Harry chewed on his lip thoughtfully as he trotted up the stairs of the building in question. He wasn't a psychic or any more sensitive to the paranormal than an average wizard, so handling spirits would be difficult. There were a lot of tiny steps to take before he could make any attempts at solving the problem, and those steps were tedious.

Setting up an offensive ward wouldn't do any good without knowing where to tune it, he needed to know as much as possible about the problem first. If the building was even haunted in the first place. The principal debriefing hadn't contained any hard evidence after all. Harry would create a detecting glyph first in order to determine if there was even a presence to begin with.

Harry picked a less worn-down looking room and gingerly sat in the middle of the floor. The wood creaked and groaned around him. Even without the possibility of ghosts, Harry didn't trust the building. He didn't want to cast any shields though, and risk tripping his own detection glyph.

Harry pulled out his runic tiles and sorted them carefully. If he came across anything tied to the building then he would start carving into the floor, but until then he would try to keep the damage to a minimum.

Sowilo first, above all he needed a base grounded in revelation and disclosure. With runic tiles infused with his magic and sufficient knowledge Harry wouldn't need to recite the verses, so his triad would be settled quickly.

Algiz next, it strengthened Sowilo's searching aspect while also providing a better chance for success.

And finally, Ansuz. He would need the messenger rune for its partial strength in revelation and specialty in knowledge.

Harry lined the three tiles together and linked them with his magic. No matter the simplicity, their activation was a welcome rush against his skin.

He allowed the runes to feed on his magic until they could sustain themselves in a glyph triad, the drain was a peculiar feeling, like he were doing push-ups instead of sitting on the ground. It didn't take much power and was over quickly, the tiles themselves were already imbued with magic.

Harry gave them a carefully measured boost of magic afterward, for greater range. It felt a bit like he had run a lap around the room, but he was more than used to it. He didn't want to do this in every room of the building, so an overpowered runebind would have to do.

All Harry had to do now was wait for anything to trip his detection glyph, be it a spirit or a prankster.

It was the most boring part of his job, which wasn't much of a complaint but that didn't make it any less dull.

Harry gave a sigh and reached into his bag to pull out a book for distraction. He would stay for a couple of hours and if nothing happened by nightfall Harry would leave. The triad would send their runemaster a flash of magic if anything activated it and hopefully a good reading on the entity as well.

He propped his head on his hand and flipped through to where he'd left off. It wasn't a very good book, a forgettable romance thriller. But Harry had a very secret soft spot for flowery, cheerful stories that ended nicely. The vigilante boyfriend would no doubt change his ways for the detective main character, and the two would solve their little mystery and get married. Stupid and sappy and sweet.

He flicked through the pages and waited for the sun to go down.

* * *

 

Harry jolted awake, head shooting up and skin crawling. Something had tripped his triad.

He scrambled to his rubbery legs and watched his runes spark and snap before him. A tide of jittery details swam across his vision, and Harry tilted dangerously. He grabbed the splintering wall blindly for support, digging his nails into the wallpaper.

Two people downstairs, they were both male and clearly not spirits. Were they pranksters responsible for the rumors? The building was off limits to outsiders, so no one should be here besides him.

Harry scooped his tiles off the ground, cutting the connection and breaking the bind. He tucked them into his bag and snagged his fallen book on his way out of the room. The journey must've taken more out of Harry than he'd anticipated, how unprofessional for him to fall asleep on the first day.

The runemaster didn't bother sneaking down the stairs. He'd caused quite a bit of noise waking up so suddenly, and there was no point in scaring anyone.

Harry didn't find anyone in the hallway, but sunlight was spilling in the entrance where the door was hanging open. He trot past the bookshelves and blinked when he almost ran right into a camera perched upon a tall tripod.

What was that for? Was someone shooting a student film in here? Whoever had set up the camera weren't in the house, but they had to be close.

Harry poked his head out of the building and found his answer in a van parked across the street. Two men were at the back, pulling out huge technological monstrosities Harry had no clue the purpose for.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked loudly, crossing the street even as the two whirled around in surprise. So they hadn't heard him make such a ruckus? The building must've been unbearably noisy during his nap, then. Harry certainly wouldn't tell them.

"You're not allowed here." The shorter one snapped almost immediately. He looked about Harry's age, maybe even younger. Harry wasn't embarrassed to note that he was striking, lean and light with dark blue eyes. Unusual coloring to find in a small Japanese town.

Harry quirked a brow. "How would you know that? I was hired by the principal to examine the schoolhouse. I understand that it looks interesting in there, but it's much too dangerous for students to play around." He told them simply. But he wasn't so sure they were students.

For one, the other man was at least twenty-five and much too old to still be in school. He didn't look related to the teenager, with shaggy black hair and cold dark eyes. Was he an arts teacher trying to get a favorite pupil an A for a video project?

The younger's scowl deepened, drawing Harry's attention. "I am also taking this case, and I assure you that I have no intention of playing." He hissed.

It was Harry's turn to frown, now a little confused. Why would the principal hire another, separate specialist for the problem? If he didn't have any faith in his runology why hire Harry in the first place?

"You were hired to look into the abandoned school house?" Harry clarified, and received a frosty nod.

"I see...then I suppose we will be coworkers?" Harry said awkwardly, not sure what was going on any longer.

"Is that a question? I won't need a coworker for my investigation, you're free to leave." Apparently finished with him, the other teenager turned back to the piles of blinking metal and began sorting through them. The other man followed his lead.

"I'm not leaving until my job is finished here and I wasn't asking your permission." Harry snapped, he regretted even coming over. What did the principal need them for? He'd understand hiring someone with a more fitting profession than Harry's, but what would all those cameras and monitors do? Was he making a documentary of the school house?

The older man brushed past him as though Harry didn't exist, carrying an armful of wires. The wizard couldn't imagine what they would use it for, perhaps a surveillance system to drive away vandals?

"What is all of this stuff for, anyway?" Harry decided to ask, if they were going to occupy the same building for a while he may as well figure out why.

"This 'stuff', is high-tech equipment to monitor and catch any signs of paranormal activity through audio and visual means. The client is rather skeptical and wants proof to ensure he wasn't swindled when he hired spiritualists. Such as yourself, I presume."

The jab missed, Harry was only more interested in the hulking contraptions. He had no idea things like computer and cameras could be used to capture spirits. The runemaster wasn't particularly protective over his reputation either, even he wasn't sure just how effective runes would be.

"Actually, I'm not really much of a spiritualist." He corrected eventually. "More of a-"

A piercing scream erupted from the school house, followed by a jarringly loud crash. Harry was already running, blasting inside the building and blinking furiously to clear the billowing clouds of dirt from his eyes.

A young girl in a school uniform crouched beside the other man. He was splayed still on the ground besides the splintered remains of a bookshelf and the camera. He ran to the man and began poking and prodding for injuries. It was an easy process to slip into, he'd done it dozens of times for fallen comrades over his seventeenth year.

Harry didn't come close to a trained medic, but he had been in a war without medical support and had picked up enough for quick treatment if it was necessary.

"What happened?" He demanded to the girl. She seemed scraped and stunned, but unharmed overall.

There was a deep cut in the man's scalp, soaking his dark hair in blood, and his leg was twisted at an awkward angle and pin-cushioned from where it hadn't cleared the heavy shelf's descent. His breathing was steady, and his heart rate was quick but strong.

The man shifted and blinked on the ground, coming to.

"Oh my gosh, I'm really sorry! He startled me and I guess I turned around too fast-" The girl stammered, but was cut off.

"Lin, what happened?" The teenager from the van was past the entrance and kneeling besides Harry before the sentence was finished, carefully helping the stirring man up.

"He can't walk with that leg and he's got a head injury, he needs medical attention immediately." Harry reported, wincing in sympathy when the blood began to spill down Lin's face and onto the ground. Head wounds always bleed heavily, and it must've felt gross spilling over his eye like that.

"Where's the nearest doctor?" The younger man asked the girl staring blankly at the both of them. Harry pulled a few tissues from his bag to give Lin something to staunch the blood. It was silently accepted with grit teeth and pallid skin. The man might be mute, now that Harry thought about it.

"T-there's one right down the street! Here- I'll help-" The girl surged forward to help Lin get to his feet and was smacked away sharply.

"No thanks," Lin growled, and Harry almost jumped. Not mute, then. "You've done more than enough."

Harry supposed he should be grateful he wasn't being hit for helping the man up too, but he was too busy trying to check the man's pupils for a concussion or shock in such dim lighting.

His skin was clammy and pale but that could be chalked up to pain. The leg would need a cast and thick bandaging, but no major arteries were nicked and the break looked clean. So long as none of his splinters were pulled out before getting to a doctor he should be fine without a tourniquet.

Harry missed whatever the teenager said to the girl, but she ran out like the building set fire and began dashing up the street to where the principal's school was.

"Down the street, right?" Harry confirmed, looping Lin's arm across his shoulders. It was a bit awkward, Harry was much shorter than the man and made for a rather lop-sided pair of human crutches, but it was better than letting him walk on his own.

"You can leave as well. I don't need your help." The teenager rejected, but Lin didn't pull away and that was enough for Harry.

"I don't have anywhere to be right now and it's easier with two people. Just let me help you to the doctor and I'll get out of your hair." He insisted, hiding a hitch in his breath when his hip gave a twinge under the added weight.

Neither men continued the argument so Harry relaxed in his victory and helped Lin limp up the hill. It was then that he noticed it was  _ morning  _ outside.

"Good lord, what time is it? Was I there all night?" Harry yelped in shock. No wonder he was so dizzy from getting up. He had slept in that creepy school house for almost eight hours! "Sorry, I must stink. I had no idea I- Some  _ nap _ ."

"What would possibly cause you to stay there for the entire night?" The teenager sounded incredulous and Harry's cheeks pinked. Talk about first impressions, he must look like a bum now.

"I didn't mean to. I set up a detection ward and was just going to stay for a little while. But I guess travelling all the way to Japan really wiped me out." He mumbled defensively, and he could feel the weight of both Lin and the other teenager's gazes.

"Are you from the UK? Some kind of psychic?" Harry was careful not to let his gait affect his surprise and risk jostling Lin, the other boy had made a very good guess on his first try. Harry's Japanese wasn't  _ superb  _ but it was good enough that he thought the accent was passable.

"Um, yeah, actually. I like to travel a lot but I'm from Britain. I'm not a psychic though, I'm a runemaster. My name's Harry Potter." He introduced with a smile that hopefully didn't look embarrassed. His hip gave another stinging complaint and it helped keep him focused.

Those sharp blue eyes only sharpened further, and almost too swift to catch they flicked up to his forehead. So this person has heard of him? Was he a wizard too?

"Why would someone as unattuned to ghosts as a runemaster be hired for this case?" The other asked instead of any obvious questions, Harry was happy to answer that instead.

"I know I'm not ideal, but I like the challenge. I've made rune glyphs that affected ghosts before and I'd like to improve. If you're asking why the principal contacted me, I don't know, but I won't turn it down."

"Regardless, you may as well go home." The other teenager huffed, and Harry strove not to take it personally. Even  _ he  _ wasn't sure how much he was capable of so he couldn't get mad at the berk who says the same thing, even if he was being a berk.

"Well then, you must be quite experienced to know so much already." Harry challenged. "Are you a medium or something?"

"Or something. I'm Kazuya Shibuya, paranormal investigator and head of Shibuya Psychic Research." Quite a title, so young and already owning a company that could afford so much machinery. Harry might have even heard of that company before.

"A paranormal investigator, huh? That sounds...interesting." He mulled over the term. That meant this person didn't have any abilities, right? Was Shibuya a squib?

They didn't speak after that, saving their breath as they finally made it over the hill and to the clinic. Harry's hip started throbbing with his heartbeat, but he made sure not to limp as they got Lin settled in the waiting room. Shibuya spoke with the receptionist while Harry stretched Lin out on the bench to keep his leg straight.

The poor man had only gotten paler in the time it took to get him to the clinic. He hadn't gone into shock, but his breathing was coming out in deliberately deep strokes and his teeth were grinding noisily. Lin had to be in an incredible amount of pain for all his stoicism.

As soon as Lin was settled, Harry stepped away and allowed the man to shut his eyes and gain more control. He waited next to the couch until Lin's friend was finished signing forms at the front desk and decided he had worn out his welcome.

"Okay then, I guess I'll see you later. I hope you make a quick recovery." Harry bid goodbye, and they both nodded coolly in his direction. He supposed to it was better than being ignored.

Harry stumbled outside and began his long shuffle to his motel room. Thank Merlin he had checked in early to dump his suitcase, or his room would have probably been given away.

He needed breakfast and a shower, or perhaps a bath. Standing didn't sound too attractive when his hip was prickling like he was the one sliced up by splinters. A good soak sounded heavenly too, he felt stiff and musty and probably looked a bit homeless now.

Afterwards he would need to mark down the triad combination he'd used last night to keep track of his results. He wasn't lying about wanting to improve upon his spiritual effects.

* * *

 

It was late afternoon by the time Harry set out for the school house again. He was washed and refreshed from his night in an abandoned building. Ready to make a better impression on his snobby coworker. Perhaps he was being too considerate, but having two best friends that were admittedly a little haughty in their own ways might have given him a soft-spot for bratty behavior.

When he got there the van was already parked outside and emptied of a large amount of electronics. It looked larger without so many monitors crammed in the back.

He stepped inside and heard the low rumble of voices on the second floor.

Was Lin still working? There's no way he could've made the stairs the same day he broke his leg, even with crutches.

Harry went upstairs and poked his head into the last room in the hall, which was now filled with shelf after shelf of shiny technological devices.

Inside the room, wiring and adjusting rows of monitors, was the girl from that morning. Shibuya wasn't with her, so Harry frowned.

"Did Shibuya give you permission to handle his equipment?" He asked worriedly, and the girl gave a shrill shriek and spun around, looking ready to leap out of her skin. Was she really so scared to be in the school house?

"I-um, y-you're the foreigner from earlier." She stuttered, and Harry stepped inside the room. He tried to eye the devices for any sign of sabotage but he couldn't find anything obvious like scuffs or cracks.

"If you've tampered with Shibuya's things I'll have to report you to the police." Harry warned.

"No need. She's working off the debt she owes me for damages." Shibuya spoke from the hallway, and crossed between them to turn on a monitor. It blinked to life and revealed one of the rooms bathed in green.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm Mai Taniyama! I'm an assistant now, not trying to break anything." She recovered, giving a shallow bow.

Harry reciprocated. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Harry Potter." She didn't look offended so Harry didn't bother apologizing, turning to Shibuya instead. He was taking a camera off one of the shelves and heading for the door again.

"How is your friend?"

"Lin's on bedrest for a week, but afterward he'll be able to work out of our van." Shibuya said simply, and Harry nodded. The man must've had a concussion after all.

"I see. I hope he'll feel better soon. Now, your things won't be ruined by any runes, will they? I wanted to leave a few disruption runes around to try to stir anything up."

Shibuya didn't seem like the type to carry well-wishes along, so that was probably all they were going to discuss about Lin until the man returned.

"So long as they are not accessories in any of your layers they won't be harmed." The teen threw over his shoulder, and Harry got to work.

He went downstairs to try a different level and pulled out a paper and pen. He wanted to do a few more glyphs before he left, so he would need more than his tiles. Chanting the verses this time around wouldn't hurt either. As fun as showing off would be, he wanted the best chance for his glyphs to succeed.

First, his detection triad. He'd leave one besides the stairs and one on the second level in the hallway.

Sowilo first. He let his hand flick across the paper in smooth strokes, easy as breathing.

_ "The Sun is ever the hope of seamen _

_ When they fare over the fishes' bath, _

_ Until the sea-steed _

_ Brings them to land." _

Harry took out a new leaf of paper and make his next rune, Algiz.

_ "The Elk's-sedge has its home most oft in the fen. _

_ It waxes in water, wounds grimly. _

_ The blood burns of every man _

_ Who makes any grasp at it." _

Then finally, Ansuz.

_ "The Mouth is the source of every speech, _

_ The mainstay of wisdom, _

_ And solace of sages, _

_ And the happiness and hope of every eorl." _

Once the ink finished drying Harry filled the runes with his magic, letting them swell with their own power, before linking them together. They wove their power around each other tightly, crackling to life beneath his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he felt a bit stiff, but the glyph set and he went to work with leaving runes in corners of the building.

Little disruption runes. Not enough to affect the building or hurt anyone, just Hagalaz without its verse to agitate any curses or ghosts that might be hiding.

"What are you doing?" Taniyama asked when he got to the second floor, he didn't look up.

"Nothing showed up yesterday so I'm trying to shake it up a little in here." He explained absently, carefully placing a Hagalaz away from Shibuya's equipment, solitary in the corner.

"What an amateur trick. Are you even activating these?" Shibuya scoffed, stepping over a paper that fluttered a little further than Harry intended.

"I'm a runemaster. It's my  _ job  _ to activate these. So don't touch them. I know it's not the fancy stuff you might be used to, but it gets results." Harry spoke sharply, levelling a glare at the investigator.

Harry might be indulgent over the snobbiness, but he still drew lines. One of them was questioning his ability as a runemaster.

To his credit, Shibuya dropped it and went back to adjusting cameras, and Harry chose the room across the hall to put his second detection glyph.

Sowilo.

_ "The Sun is ever the hope of seamen _

_ When they fare over the fishes' bath, _

_ Until the sea-steed _

_ Brings them to land." _

Algiz.

_ "The Elk's-sedge has its home most oft in the fen. _

_ It waxes in water, wounds grimly. _

_ The blood burns of every man _

_ Who makes any grasp at it." _

Ansuz.

_ "The Mouth is the source of every speech, _

_ The mainstay of wisdom, _

_ And solace of sages, _

_ And the happiness and hope of every eorl." _

"That looks so cool!" Taniyama burst from the hallway, eyes wide as the paper shivered and sparked and drained Harry for power.

Having already infused several dozen runes now, Harry felt worn out and achy. Sweat was slipping down his back and it was getting difficult to suppress his increasingly labored breathing. Still, he appreciated the girl's enthusiasm.

"Thank you." He spoke softly, getting to his feet and trudging down the stairs. The runemaster was eager to head back to the motel before he accidentally spent another night in the school house. His head felt heavy and his eyes were becoming unfocused.

"What are you again? How did you make those squiggly symbols glow like that?" The girl continued, scampering eagerly after him.

"I'm a runemaster, I layered those runes into a glyph that feeds off power until it can function independently from me. The glowing means it worked." Harry explained patiently, taking one last cursory glance over his scattered disruption runes and brushing his magic over them. Each and every one rang back, a success. Harry allowed a tired smile to grace his face. His failure rate had dropped in the past six months.

"Are all real spiritualists so young?" Taniyama questioned, not quite hiding the glare she sent upstairs.

"I'm not a spiritualist, runology isn't made for ghosts and the like." Harry corrected, tucking his paper and pen into his bag. He slung the charmed satchel over his shoulder easily, it wasn't nearly as heavy as it should be with all the runological items dumped inside. Hermione had helped make the enchantment permanent after his first few business trips across the globe.

"And I don't know about your boss, but I just...used it very often over a short period of time and gained a lot of experience." He shrugged, tightening his fingers over the leather strap of his bag. Over and over, he'd carved elaborate runes that bounced and snapped and bit at their runemaster until he'd discovered his mistakes. He couldn't slow down or seek help, the only way to survive was to endure until they glowed with their own power.

"I'm leaving now, how much longer are you two going to be setting up?" Harry announced at the door.

Taniyama jerked back, probably remembering she couldn't leave with Harry until Shibuya allowed her to go. Shibuya's voice carried from upstairs.

"We'll be finished in another hour or so. We will see you tomorrow."

"T-tomorrow?" Taniyama groaned, "You mean..."

"You too, Mai."

Harry couldn't hold back a snicker as she groaned and flopped back up the stairs. He would have to remember to be extremely careful around the teenage businessman's cameras to avoid working for him too, it didn't look very enjoyable. He supposed it was better than being sued, though.

* * *

 

"Oof!"

Harry wasn't prepared to smack into another person turning the corner after dark, and fell back against the ground in an undignified heap.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't...see you there." Someone squeaked. Harry looked up to find a bespectacled girl in the same school uniform as Taniyama staring down at him. What was with these students and wandering around the town at weird hours?

"It's fine. I wasn't looking where I was going." Harry levered himself back onto his feet carefully. He felt like a feeble old man but he had done a lot of walking that day.

"H-here's your bag." The girl snatched his satchel from the ground and practically shoved it at him, eyes averted.

Harry looped it across his shoulder, "Thanks."

Harry studied her for a moment, she seemed agitated, tensed like a coiled spring. But there wasn't much to clue him into her problem in such dim lighting.

"Nice glasses." He murmured instead, taking a moment to appreciate the sleek rectangular frames perched on her face. Before he had gotten his vision corrected during his stay at St. Mungo's, he might have been a little jealous.

"Thank you very much!" She cried too loudly, and Harry tried not to look exhausted when he plastered on a smile and walked around her. It wasn't helping his self-esteem, but he felt far too old to handle the hyper kids in this town.

"Have a nice night." He called belatedly, but he didn't turn back around. He could see the back of his motel in the distance, just a few more blocks. It was just as well, the girl didn't respond and the quieting thunder behind him told Harry she was already running away.

Harry put it out of his mind with ease, breathing a sigh of relief now that he was back to walking. He'd have more energy to deal with flighty teenagers in the morning, right now all he wanted was sleep.

As soon as Harry managed to unlock his dingy motel room with bleary eyes, he kicked the door shut and flung himself onto the squeaky bed.

He should probably make himself dinner or at least take his dirty clothes off, but his eyelids were already heavy and his hip was feeling weak. It wasn't worth the effort.

Harry buried his face into his pillow and fell asleep with his shoes on. It's not like anyone would know anyways.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FILE 1

The sun was high in the sky when Harry trot up to the old school house. He was fed and washed and ready to really start working on his case.

Shibuya's van was already parked on the curb and a small group of people were standing at the back of it. Harry recognized Shibuya and Taniyama, but the other three were strangers. A towering man with long hair that reminded him of Charlie Weasley, a redheaded woman wearing a sneer, and a blond boy about Taniyama's size.

"Oh, hello Harry!" Taniyama chirped as he walked over to the group hesitantly. None of them looked particularly friendly, a protest?

"Good morning Taniyama, Shibuya." He smiled to both of them, and received a bubbly grin and a dignified blink respectively.

"May I help you?" He asked the strange three, keeping his smile in place. It was only returned by the blond.

"These three are claiming to be spiritualists hired by the principal to solve the case." Shibuya explained and the two older ones bristled.

"'Claiming'? You just saw the principal yourself! If anyone is scamming people around here, it's the teenager in the back of a van." The man growled pointedly, while the redhead turned her attention on Harry.

" _ Another _ little boy? Should I be concerned over the principal's true intentions?" She snickered. Harry gave her an unimpressed look.

"I'm nineteen. Should  _ I  _ be concerned that's your immediate conclusion?"

"I'm nineteen as well! My name's John Brown." The blond bounced forward eagerly, smothering whatever barb the redhead delivered.

Brown's Japanese sounded a bit off, Harry couldn't place it. It might have been the very heavy Australian accent muddling his words. From the twitching lips around him the others were picking up on it too. Harry shook the blond's hand and switched to English, the runemaster had appreciated bilingual locals a great deal when he first started traveling.

" _ Pleased to meet you, my name is Harry Potter. _ " Harry was rewarded when Brown's smile widened even further.

" _ The pleasure is all mine. If I may, are you British? You have a very convincing Japanese accent. _ "

" _ Thank you. And yes, I am. You're Australian, right? I've been there a few times, the heat was more than I'm used to but the people are wonderful. _ " Harry had enchanted a few wizards' manors to be resistant to the weather and remain relatively cool in temperature there. He understood the desire for more permanent runes, the sweltering deserts and deadly wildlife had been overwhelming the farther he got from the cities.

" _ Thank you very much, I'm proud of my home. Oh, I'm an exorcist by the way. That's why I was hired. _ "

"Care to share with the class?" The woman sniped, eyes narrowed suspiciously as she studied their expressions.

Harry's smile faltered. "An exorcist, huh? You're the first I've met, I look forward to watching you later. I'm a runemaster, not very spiritual but I believe I was selected for my popularity." He spoke deliberately in Japanese but completely ignored the woman besides.

Brown didn't seem to mind, though his words were slower than before. "I hope to live up to your expectations! I've met runemasters before, but never one so young. You must be very talented."

Harry laughed. "Certainly not as talented as a nineteen year old priest, that's a lot more than just honing powers and memorizing runes."

"A runemaster? This principal's lucky he called me! He has no idea what he's doing if he hired a runemaster to chase out spirits." The man guffawed and caught his eye with a smug grin.

"Hoshou Takigawa by the way, I'm a Buddhist monk."

Harry had never seen a monk that looked like this man before. He had earrings and a bomber jacket and none of the quiet deliberance Harry expected.

"And I'm Ayako Matsuzaki, the shrine maiden." The redhead added proudly, as if her earlier remarks hadn't already been her failed first impression. He opted not to comment, she was itching for a fight.

"I see." Harry hummed cooly, he didn't bother introducing himself.

The group drifted into a tense silence as they shuffled into the school house together.

Harry distracted himself from the awkwardness by busying himself with the many disruption runes lying about.

None of them had been touched since he placed them on the ground, and every single one still contained full power. There had been nothing to latch on to besides the schoolhouse itself, but Harry had been careful not to pin them to the floorboards for that reason.

"Watch your step." He warned the others walking past him before moving on to his triad set by the bottom of the stairs.

"Looks like you were busy." The monk whistled, poking his head into every room curiously.

"Did you detect anything?" Shibuya asked, computer tucked under one arm and already heading to his room full of other computers.

"Nothing was set off down here." Harry confirmed with a sigh, brushing a hand lightly over the triad. It would be a pain diffusing all the disruption runes, he had hoped even if nothing was detected, something might have drained them while he was gone.

"That's because you're a runemaster. Of course you won't be able to catch any spirits." Matsuzaki sniffed, stepping delicately across the floor and following Shibuya to his room.

"Even so, this is very impressive, Potter!" Brown admired, also following Matsuzaki and Shibuya. "I know it takes a great deal of power and patience to make these many runes in such a short period of time."

Harry straightened out and grinned. "It's not that impressive, most of them are only single runes. But thank you. And please call me Harry."

He went with Brown up the stairs to check on his other runes. "Then you must call me John as well." The exorcist returned warmly.

"John." Harry agreed, and once he reached the second floor he began surveying the other runes.

The disruption runes were once again completely untouched, and his detection glyphs were finally ringing in his ear, the brief impressions of three male humans and two female humans flashing before him. It was just detecting these people and no one else.

"Still nothing." Harry huffed, allowing Taniyama and Takigawa to push ahead and into Shibuya's room.

"So we have an exorcist, an apostate monk, a ghost hunter, and a runemaster. Obviously this boneheaded principal doesn't have much faith in my unique cleansing abilities. Hmph, just watch. I'm going to cleanse this entire place myself." Matsuzaki stormed down the hall after she'd gotten a good look at Shibuya's tech, strutting into every empty room like she'd chase a ghost out with her impatience alone.

Not wanting to be outmatched, Takigawa ducked out of the room after her. "I'm going to do a walk-through. See you later."

Harry turned his attention back to the ground, a discouraging amount of diffusing awaited him. At least he'd learned more for it. He hadn't seen any proof of either human or spiritual interference over the school house for the past two days. For a case that managed to attract so many specialists, it looked like the result of simple rumors.

Harry bent and snatched a rune from the floor. He could feel the feeble power wash over him, a breath closer to chaos than he was before. Harry eyed the Hagalaz scrawled on the paper and carefully ripped the rune in half. The power fizzled and died, its effects neutralized.

The runemaster was glad he'd decided on weak runes, ripping was the quickest way to go about diffusing them, but if it was layered or pinned tight the rune would need to be carefully manipulated.

Harry stuffed the ruined rune into his pocket and reached for another one when a screech burst from down the hall.

"That sounds like Ayako!" John gasped, and Harry was already racing toward the noise, blindly taking corners. He didn't bother avoiding the runes littering the ground. 

Harry skid to a halt before double doors shut tight, he could hear the wood splinter and groan underneath Matsuzaki's kicking and scratching but the doors wouldn't budge.

"Are you okay?" Harry demanded, yanking the door handle as hard as he could. The door groaned but remained stuck fast.

"Get me out! I'm trapped!" Matsuzaki wailed, but stopped beating on the door.

"Stand back, I'm going to kick the door down!" Takigawa shouted, arriving breathlessly before the commotion.

"Well hurry up and  _ do  _ it!" Matsuzaki growled.

Harry stepped away, the monk dwarfed him by far and would be able to break the door much quicker with physical strength alone. What had trapped the Matsuzaki in there to begin with? Had the spirit shown itself? He brushed his magic over his detection glyph once more, and this time they rang back with a report that didn't match the room's living occupants.

Four human men and three human women, one more woman than before.

The door snapped back with a thunderous crack and Matsuzaki burst from the classroom, her hair disheveled and her face blotchy.

"Are you hurt?" Harry pulled himself from his discovery, holding the redhead steady as she shook and shuffled like a wild horse about to bolt.

"Nothing touched me, let go. I'm fine." She stammered unsteadily, and a quick inspection confirmed it. Not a scratch or scrape besides the skin on her knuckles.

Takigawa led them into Shibuya's classroom and sat Matsuzaki down at the table with an air of professionalism. Harry supposed he often took the role of comforter during his cases, having such a towering form.

Matsuzaki took a deep, steadying breath and visibly calmed.

"I was looking around the classroom and suddenly the door slammed shut." She began softly.

"There's someone here." Harry interrupted, drawing their attention.

"My glyph detected a human woman just now."

"Well I should hope so." Matsuzaki snapped, gesturing to both Taniyama and herself. "As there  _ are  _ human women present."

Harry scowled. "I meant besides us. I counted one more person here." Shibuya and John's serious expressions soothed his ruffled pride a bit.

"That might be me." A girl spoke from outside the room and everyone spun around to see a blank-faced Japanese girl in a colorful kimono.

"Ghost!" Taniyama cried, clinging to her employer for protection.

"Relax, Mai. She's human. Masako Hara is a spirit medium." He sighed in a long-suffering manner.

The girl strode confidently into the room on wooden sandals, matching Shibuya's gaze.

"Oh, another one?" Taniyama mumbled under Takigawa's loud huff.

"Fantastic, now they're calling in a TV star?"

Matsuzaki leapt from her chair. "This is ridiculous, it's easy to fake results on television. The only reason she gets ratings is because she's pretty and wears that silly kimono."

Hara's face finally shifted to one of irritation as she blew her way past Matsuzaki's temper and made her way to Shibuya.

"Correct me if I'm wrong  but I don't remember meeting you before." Their stares were oddly intense, did they know each other from something?

"Yes, we've never met. But your reputation precedes you."

Harry didn't know either of them very well, but Hara looked as though she didn't believe him. "Right."

Then, unexpectedly, she turned her attention on the runemaster. "If that glyph by the stairs is your work than you should also know there are no spirits present."

Everyone in the room quieted and listened for his response, tense and ready to disagree. It was clear Hara was the only one who thought the place wasn't haunted.

Harry blinked under the combined scrutiny of the spiritualists and squared his shoulders. It's true, he hadn't detected a single thing over the last two days, and nothing had tripped his runes, but was he confident enough to close the case already?

"I don't believe I have enough experience to rule out everything just yet. But if I have missed something, it's not common like a haunting or possession." He answered truthfully and immediately received two disgusted looks from the shrine maiden and monk.

"Well then I'm glad the principal wizened up before he settled on a runemaster of all things." Matsuzaki bit out. "In my  _ professional  _ opinion as a shrine maiden, there  _ is  _ a haunting here. I believe we're dealing with an earth-bound spirit."

"I believe it's a residual haunting, a traumatic event must have happened in this building in the past." Takigawa corrected.

"So you mean like someone was murdered here and they have to eternity searching the halls for their killer?" Taniyama asked eagerly and Harry tuned the rest of their conversation out.

It stung that three coworkers immediately tossed out his opinion, but he held to it. Harry was inexperienced and spiritualism wasn't his speciality, but he'd dealt with low-grade ghosts and spirits before and he didn't see any evidence that they were present in the building.

"John," Shibuya asked, drawing Harry's attention. "What do you think?"

Harry made sure not to look at the exorcist, he wouldn't pressure John into agreeing like the others had tried with him.

"Well to be honest, I'm not sure." John admitted. "But, usually a haunting does originate with the ghost or spirit occupying the structure."

He didn't hold anything against John or Shibuya, but he would much rather go back to diffusing the runes before he gathered enough disruption to get knocked into a wall.

Before Harry could edge his way to the door however, Matsuzaki beat him to it, stalking out with the impatience Harry was beginning to expect.

"I'm getting rid of this thing as soon as I get back, I don't know how long I can put up with you people."

She stopped abruptly at the door, and Harry leaned over to see a girl blocking her way. Harry tugged on his detection glyph again and found there was another human female in the building. So she wasn't a ghost.

"I wouldn't be so confident in your abilities. The spirit that haunts this site is incredibly powerful." The girl growled, but Matsuzaki was clearly done and shoved the girl into the door frame to get by.

The girl slipped down the frame and onto the floor like a wilted flower without another word.

"Kuroda!" Taniyama gasped, and Harry followed her to kneel at the girl's side.

"The spirit attacked me." She explained hoarsely.

"Are you injured?" He asked for the second time that day.

The girl looked at him and jolted, ram-rod straight against the frame. "You! You're a spiritualist too?"

Had they met? Harry frowned and pulled back to look at her for a moment. He didn't recognize her face at all, but those glasses...Oh! That girl he'd bumped into the night before. So she was a friend of Taniyama's?

"I'm not, but the principal hired me to help. Do you need medical attention?" Harry pressed, she was looking a little flushed, a fever maybe?

"I was walking down the hallway when suddenly my hair was yanked backward with amazing force, when I tried to flee it started strangling me." Kuroda didn't really answer his question, too caught up in storytelling, but Harry took what he could.

He carefully prodded around her scalp for tearing or bald spots, but wearing braids could protect against injuries like that unless the force was brutal. He thumbed over her neck too, but there was nothing to find. There wasn't any swelling and the skin wasn't even irritated. The only pinkness was centered solely on her cheeks. Was he making her uncomfortable again?

"You're fine." Harry comforted, and backed off so Taniyama could help the girl up.

"When did this happen?" Shibuya asked.

"A few minutes ago, on the second floor hallway." Harry tried not to let his doubt show on his face. There was no damage to backup her claims and though he knew spiritual injuries were unpredictable, there was no way such a violent and physical spirit could get past his detection.

"That's false, there are no spirits here." Hara had no such hesitations calling Kuroda out, but the girl was just as prepared to passionately argue her case.

"You said this happened on the second floor hallway?" Shibuya turned around and turned on his wall of monitors. They bathed the room in blue light before switching to footage from different rooms and angles throughout the school house.

Harry caught movement in the corner screen and saw Kuroda walk into the building and up the stairs from what must've been a few minutes ago. Then the single monitor crashed and displayed black and white noise instead.

"Did the camera break?" It wasn't supposed to do that, right?

"No, but it is quite strange. When a spirit becomes active electronic equipment will often malfunction, but here I'm not so sure. Is it a spirit or EM interference?" Harry couldn't answer the teenager's musings. He wasn't sure what the difference was.

"It's quite obviously a spirit. Interference doesn't cause someone to be attacked." Kuroda snarled, she looked completely different than the nervous girl he'd bumped into earlier. 

"But Masako said there was no spirits here." Taniyama protested.

Kuroda gave a fearsome glare. "Well let's just say that I'm a little skeptical about her." She made no show of hiding her anger, turning to direct her glare at the medium.

"It's common for female mediums to be either exactly right or way off base. Even if she can't sense any spirits now doesn't mean the haunting isn't active. If what you say is true then it's possible that the spirit that inhabits this place is very intuned with your wavelength." Shibuya told her, and Kuroda relaxed enough for a gleeful smile to perch on her face.

That alone struck Harry as suspicious. If she were truly haunted and possessed by this spirit she should know it's nothing to be prideful over. Even Quirrell, who adored his master, was tortured and eventually killed by their connection. Harry rubbed against the chill that crept down his arms and shifted his thoughts away. He needed to go rip up his other runes, that would make for a good distraction.

Harry began right where he stood, and started plucking the runes out of the corners of the room and tearing them in half before stuffing them in his pocket.

It tickled a little to feel his own magic brush over him just to be wiped away when he destroyed the rune, but he could feel some remain like a cobweb barely clinging to his skin. The runes he stepped on to get to Matsuzaki were doing their job admirably, layering on top of each other and focusing on him instead of shifting whenever he moved. Harry should probably get away from the table corners soon.

"Are you going to destroy every single rune you made yesterday?" Taniyama asked skeptically, watching as he ripped three more and kneeled to get to one that fluttered under the table.

"Yeah, losing track of disruption runes in a condemned building would be pretty irresponsible." Harry mumbled, finishing the final Hagalaz in the room.

"These are all disruption runes? Do you want to bring the building down on us?" Takigawa yelped, eyeing the ceiling as though it would crumble at any second.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, they're very weak and I scattered them just in case. Even if you gathered every single one and nailed it to the roof the worst thing that would happen would be shingles falling off."

Harry moved to the hallway and picked up another two.

"Do you need any help? I have many abilities of my own." Kuroda offered loudly, deafening the crinkle of paper being torn in half.

"They're weak enough that you don't need any abilities to diffuse them, but they  _ are  _ still disruption runes. Are you sure?" Harry cautioned, pausing to make eye contact. "They could still affect you if you aren't quick enough."

"I'm quick." She defended, and grabbed a rune of her own down the hall. Harry was on her in a second and snatched it away.

"Don't pick these up until you know what you're doing." Harry scolded, smoothing out the crumpled rune and showing her the symbol.

"You see this Hagalaz? You need to make sure you rip it in half, if it's just a corner than it might not work." He ripped it in half and handed her the two strips of paper.

"Got it?"

Kuroda nodded firmly and picked up two more, under his watchful gaze she tore the two papers in half and gave it to him to inspect. Harry smoothed out the paper and compared the four strips. They were a little uneven but clearly halved. Harry nodded.

"Good, just make sure you rip up every single one you touch before you stop."

Harry turned away from her and took the other side of the hallway.

With an extra hand he finished the first floor quickly and had to put the destroyed runes inside a dusty wastebin to burn later, they wouldn't fit in his pockets anymore.

He didn't know what riled Kuroda so much when it came to spirits but she was a likeable person besides. She worked hard and had no qualms crawling under desks and brushing past spider webs to find runes that fell a little farther than intended. The girl was also a great deal quieter when she had a task it seems, her stories shortened significantly anyways.

When Harry completed his side of the first floor, he went to find Kuroda. Every room he peeked into during his search was clear of runes until he came to the very back of the school house.

Kuroda was kneeling beside a rune that was only missing a small portion of paper on one side, not enough to destroy it. She was chewing on her lip furiously and hovering as though she could fix it on force of will alone.

"Here, I'll destroy it." Harry sighed and she nearly hopped a foot in the air, eyes wide.

"N-no, I've got this! I just need to...rip it again?"

Harry smoothed a hand over the rune, it pulsed back almost as bright as before, almost. The two strips of paper still held power. Harry shook his head.

"Not this one, it needs to be drained. Where's the other piece?"

Kuroda pulled out several tiny fragments of paper from her pocket and dumped them on the nearly whole rune. Her face was red again.

Harry didn't comment, he laid his hand flat against the pile and began tugging on the magic swirling inside. Kuroda twitched, she might have been able to feel it if the rune already latched on to her. Harry took a deep breath and carefully unravelled the rune.

It sparked and spit weakly at him, but it was his own magic and Harry knew how to handle it before it bit. He pulled it free and felt the magic lose focus and melt away into the air, shapeless.

"There." Harry murmured, and pocketed the pieces.

"How did you do that?" Kuroda demanded as they both straightened out and dusted off their filthy clothes.

"I'm a runemaster, it's my job." Harry replied, peeking into the last two rooms to make sure no other runes were on the floor.

"I-I've never heard of runes before, but it looks very impressive. I'm a psychic, you know. So I can sense that you're a powerful person." She blustered and Harry hid his doubt. He certainly hadn't felt any psychic energy brushing against his magic, but he wouldn't rile her up just as she'd finally calmed down.

"Thank you for your help, it made things go much faster. You should go get some lunch or something, you've done enough today." Harry nudged, but the girl shook her head vehemently.

"I saw the second floor, there are still plenty of runes left I can help with, I'll stay."

Harry looked over her dirty clothes and smudged arms, he wasn't comfortable making her do more. It was a Saturday, she should be hanging out with her friends, not lurking in an abandoned building.

"You've done more than enough, you're not even being payed for it. Go relax." He insisted but she only tensed again, fists clenched.

"I can do it! It was just one mistake!"

"Calm down, this isn't a punishment." Harry soothed, she was so high-strung. "If you truly want to keep ripping up runes, you can. But it's even dirtier upstairs."

The fire in Kuroda's eyes cooled, and she looked down at herself as though she just noticed how stained her skirt was. "Oh."

Tantrum averted, Harry let her decide for herself and hopped up the stairs. He could still feel the runes he'd touched earlier clinging to him, he'd handle that hallway first.

Harry destroyed the runes two at a time, making his way into the first classroom on the floor. He'd stepped on these on his way to Matsuzaki, he felt the tiniest bit lighter after tearing them in half.

"M-my name is Naoko Kuroda, by the way." Kuroda piped from the stairs, had she been watching him?

When Harry registered what she said he flushed. He'd just worked the girl for an hour and a half and he hadn't even introduced himself!

He gave a quick bow, face burning. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Harry Potter."

She smiled and brushed past him to pick up a few runes of her own. She made a show of slowly ripping them in clean halves and then moved to cover the room he'd been heading toward.

They drifted into an amicable silence, checking on each other every now and then after finishing a room. Nothing happened though, the doors stayed open and his detection glyph remained steady. Kuroda may hate him for it, but he was beginning to believe Hara.

* * *

 

By the time Harry and Kuroda finished neutralizing all the disruption runes, Matsuzaki had returned in full shrine maiden garb. In tow were the principal and vice-principal.

She'd set up a small altar filled with things Harry didn't recognize, and was completing some sort of ritual.

Harry darted to the back where the others were watching quietly and dumped the rest of the ruined runes into the wastebin.

"Hey Potter, come to watch too? She's finishing up." Takigawa whispered.

"What is she doing?" Harry had to ask, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"A Shinto exorcism." Taniyama chirped, not tearing her eyes away from the strange paper mop Matsuzaki was rhythmically flicking from side to side.

Her chanting came to a stop and she smiled proudly to the two men behind her. "That's it, now you'll have nothing to worry about." 

The three chatted together as they turned around and started heading for the door.

Takigawa stretched and yawned beside him, nearly smacking Harry in the head with his elbow. "She's finally done." He groaned.

Harry checked on his detection glyph sitting next to the alter. Seven human men and four human women, no spirits.

A jarring  _ snap  _ tore him from his thoughts, the windows on the front door were filled with spiderweb cracks. Just as suddenly, the windows completely shattered, spraying Matsuzaki and the two men with jagged shards of glass.

Harry managed to catch the vice-principal before he crashed to the ground but could only soften the fall, he wasn't strong enough to support him. The harsh weight on his legs sent a vicious spike to his hip, and Harry clenched his fingers into the vice-principal's suit. The man moaned as he slumped on the ground and the other two weren't much better.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, focusing on the vice-principal since Matsuzaki appeared miraculously untouched, if startled, and Takigawa was already hovering over the principal.

"I-I think so." He hissed, but Harry could already see where the shards had dug their way under his skin.

Reminiscent of Lin, his face was dripping with blood from a wound on his scalp, and his suit was staining with blood from his hands and neck. Harry tilted the man's head back to look closely at the glass sticking out of his  throat like splinters. Nothing looked too big, and nothing caught his jugular vein, though he didn't dare remove one.

"Stay still." He advised, brushing glass off the carpet before laying the man fully on the ground. He moved on to the vice-principal's hands, and there were a few slashes across one wrist, but nothing deep. He tugged out the shards above his wrist and tied his arm tight with the man's tie just in case. He wouldn't bleed out, those cuts only killed people on television, but he shouldn't lose any more blood if those neck wounds became more serious.

"I'm calling an ambulance, how is the vice-principal?" John asked shakily, dialing even as he spoke.

"I'm fine." The man insisted, but Harry ignored him.

"I can't find anything life-threatening but he needs someone to look at his neck very soon."

John nodded bravely and turned to speak to the operator on the phone.

The ambulance came in record time, a small-town benefit, and the two men were loaded quickly. Within ten minutes they were back inside the building, pale and confused.

The pensive silence was shattered quickly, however, when Harry, Shibuya, Takigawa, Taniyama, and John reached the other two in Shibuya's classroom.

"Yes there are! I was nearly  _ killed  _ by one of them earlier today!" Kuroda roared to Matsuzaki, the three spiritualists were apparently already arguing again.

"Maybe it was a coincidence." John offered softly, carefully looking away from the volatile schoolgirl.

"Or there's something here." Takigawa put in, "Something too strong for Ayako to drive away."

"My glyph didn't pick up any spirits, and nothing with that much physical influence could hide from it." Harry told them both, and to his surprise, Shibuya backed him up.

"There would be more conclusive readings on my equipment as well."

So Shibuya was hedging the fence on an actual spiritual presence too, maybe it really was just coincidence and gossip.

"Hey!" Taniyama called, "That room didn't have a chair in the middle of it yesterday, did it?"

Harry looked at the monitor she was studying, there was a single wooden chair sitting in front of the camera. It hadn't been there when he and Kuroda had been cleaning up the runes, all the smaller furniture upstairs had been pushed up against the walls for more room for construction.

"That's one of the classrooms on the second floor." Shibuya noted, and Taniyama nodded.

"I set the camera up in there yesterday, just like you told me to. I swear it wasn't there."

"It wasn't there when I went up earlier either." Harry hummed, glancing at Kuroda.

"Did you move it?"

She shook her head, anticipation flashing in her glasses.

Shibuya stared at both of them for a moment, and Harry tried not to feel too defensive. He didn't move the chair and he wasn't a liar. Without another word, the teenager turned and rewound the tape to right after Matsuzaki's exorcism.

As the audio played the muffled crash of glass and screams, the chair slid across the floor in jerky jolts until it sat before the camera.

A chill crawled up Harry's back. How had his glyph not picked up on that? If the spirit was capable of knocking things around why hadn't it been exacerbated by his disruption runes? It only happened afterward, and still his triad rang back clean.

"It looks to me like a poltergeist." Kuroda announced, arms crossed and confident.

"A poltergeist?" Taniyama parroted slowly, more than enough for the long-winded girl to continue.

"It's a German word dating back four centuries that means "noisy ghost". They are manifestations that can influence and move objects at will." She explained seriously.

"That is correct," Shibuya acknowledged. "But I don't think that's what we're dealing with. Quite often objects that are manipulated by a poltergeist will feel warm to the touch, if we look at our thermographic image we can see the chair is not radiating heat." He pressed a button and the monitor was a range of blues coloring the chair and the walls behind it. Harry didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but he supposed the ultimate conclusion was that the chair wasn't warm.

"You can tell the temperature with a camera?" Harry asked, how did that even work?

"It's a special kind of lense." Taniyama explained, and the runemaster nodded thankfully. He still didn't know how a lense could sense temperature, but he supposed it was possible.

"But don't forget Tisane's criteria." John pointed out, and this time Taniyama didn't know what the priest was talking about.

"Who's that?"

"E. Tisane; he's a French policeman who was the first one to classify poltergeists. Throwing objects, strange noises, fires, doors closing by themselves, and so on. There are nine different criteria in all and so far we've seen a number of them in sight. We have doors closing on their own, inanimate objects moving, and glass breaking, which makes up three of the nine criteria." Shibuya listed expertly, even though Harry had known the criteria he certainly hadn't memorized all that other information.

"But what about Kuroda getting attacked?" Taniyama asked cluelessly, and opened up the fight once more. No one hesitated to jump right back in.

"I'm afraid it was just her imagination." Hara stated firmly, and Kuroda went on the offense.

"Stop playing games with me! Why can't you admit this place is haunted?" She barked, following Hara out of the room like she was itching to attack.

"Alright then," Hara sighed in a very put-upon fashion. "I'll try once more. I will sense them if there are any spirits here." And with that, she trod upstairs on wooden sandals to look for spirits.

"If we truly are dealing with a spirit here and Masako can't sense it, that would be quite a shock." John mumbled after her.

"There's no evidence suggesting there is one." Shibuya countered, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"No actual spirits have been sensed by anyone the entire time we've been here, it's all just been accidents."

" _ I've _ been sensing spirits here for years!" Kuroda whirled on him in an instant, face beet-red. Harry didn’t appreciate being yelled at, but she continued before he could form a retort.

"You're just listening to  _ her  _ b-because she's pretty!" The tiniest tremor in her voice was the only sign she was feeling anything more than fury, and Harry tacked on a calming expression didn't match his panic in the slightest.

"I understand that, and perhaps you're seeing a spirit that has only attached itself to you, like Shibuya said earlier. But we're here to exorcise the school house and there isn't any sign something's haunting this building. And I'm not just listening to Hara, my glyph is supposed to detect any physical manifestations and hasn't found anything even with all this movement." Harry rambled, and was saved from Kuroda's response when the ceiling began to crackle.

The wallpaper warped and the supports cracked and splintered loudly.

"Creaking noises." Takigawa whispered, and Taniyama glanced at him, eyes wide with panic.

"Don't  _ ghosts  _ make sounds like that?" She whimpered.

The noises grew louder and louder until Hara's distant scream flew through the air followed by a nauseating thud.

"It's Masako! Someone call an ambulance!" John shouted, staring into a monitor with horror in his blue eyes.

* * *

 

"The portion of the Eastern wall that had been demolished was boarded up with weak plywood and was by no means structurally sound. She must've leaned on it, causing it to break under her weight. Miss Hara herself said it was an accident." Shibuya briefed the others calmly.

Harry already the medium's take on it, he'd been with Hara and Shibuya when the ambulance came.

_ "I was just being careless. There are no spirits inside." _ She had rasped, determined to put people in her corner while she was gone. Hara didn't have to, Harry was well on his way to calling this case a fake and moving on, it was only an exercise in stamina so far and he hadn't learned anything new.

"We can't deny it anymore, there's obviously a force here." Matsuzaki said, and Harry frowned at her in bewilderment.

"Didn't you just hear what Shibuya said? It was a complete accident that Hara fell."

"But accidents keep happening here, that's why they say it's haunted!" Taniyama snapped back.

Shibuya slanted a warning look her way. "That maybe true, but there are simply not enough readings on the equipment to prove it." 

"There aren't any temperature fluctuations, no ionic polarization, and the EMF readings are normal. The proof just isn't there." He bulldozed.

"But Ayako was trapped in that room and I was attacked upstairs!" Kuroda rallied. "Something also moved the chair, broke the glass, and erased the video!"

"Like I said, I'm still not convinced." Shibuya declared, but Harry paused.

"How did you know about Ayako being trapped in that room?" He asked Kuroda suspiciously.

“W-what?”

“My glyph said there were only three women in the building while she was in there, and the other one was Hara."

Kuroda looked away sharply, clenching a dirty sleeve. "I pieced it together myself. Shibuya listed it as one of the criteria met and Ayako has been hinting to it since I got here." Those were both true, but Harry didn't believe her. He didn't really know what he was accusing her of, but she found out another way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CASE 1

"What do you really think?" Shibuya asked him quietly, the ghost hunter had pulled Harry, Takigawa, and John away from the others. 

"I firmly believe it's not a poltergeist or a simple ghost. I don't have enough information to confirm anything besides that, but I'm leaning toward nothing at all." He confided, and appreciated it when the other two didn't immediately step up to disagree.

"What about you Hosho?" Shibuya switched to the monk without any further pressing.

"I still believe it's a residual haunting."

"And you, John?"

The priest took a bit longer to answer. "Well, I'm not sure. Though I do agree it's become quite dangerous here."

"What about you?" Harry asked curiously. Shibuya supported both Harry and Hara's claims, but he hadn't given his own theory yet.

But Shibuya was already leaving, a solid air of disinterest circling his head. "I'll hold off on my opinion for now, I'd like to investigate this from a slightly different angle." He deflected, and left the room without another word.

"So what do you think about this guy?" Takigawa asked after him skeptically. "He knows how to put on a show with all his equipment but I'm not convinced the boy wonder knows what he's doing."

"He knows a lot about ghosts." Harry pointed out. "And he knew about Hara's work. I don't know if he actually has an idea yet, but I believe he's genuine."

Takigawa gave a snort. "No offense kid, but I really don't expect a runemaster to recognize the real deal."

"I'm nineteen." Harry hissed, well and truly fed up with the disrespect.

"Yeah and I don't believe  _ that  _ for a second either, pipsqueak. You're smaller than Mai, for crying out loud." Takigawa snickered.

Harry was short, not to a ridiculous degree, just about five foot four, but he hated being reminded about it. It brought back all the memories he'd rather forget.

The nights he'd go without food, the hollow ache in his belly that would never go away. And so many years later he'd faced it again in the woods, with a handful of berries and a squirrel to share among three starving teenagers sure _ they were going to die tomorr- _

Harry spun on his heel and stormed out of the room before he said something he'd regret. He would come back when he couldn't hear Hermione fighting off tears as she skinned the squirrel by the fire.

* * *

 

Harry sucked in a huge lungful of air, letting it out in a whoosh as though it could cleanse his insides. He felt as though he'd been holding his breath all day.

He shouldn't have gotten so carried away, but he hadn't been prepared for the jab. For all that Harry complained to himself about the others' tempers, he'd lost his own in a second. Ridiculous.

Smoothing his hair out of his face, Harry took one last big gulp before trotting down the steps and to the streets. Maybe it was just jitters from being stuck in the decaying school house for so long, should he wander around for an hour?

"Potter, could you come here a moment?" Harry let out a squeak and whipped his head to the side to discover Shibuya sitting in his van typing away on another computer. So that was where the ghost hunter wandered off to.

Harry pulled himself together, he was too old to angst like this.

Placing a grin on his face with the utmost care, Harry trot to the van. "Sure, what's up?"

"I couldn't ask with the others in the room, but what is your opinion as a wizard? I understand that you are more sensitive to ghosts than your non-magical counterpart and your upbringing may allow you more insight in the case."

Harry froze mid step, those words blew by much too fast. Swallowing, Harry kept the grin on. "I-I see, so you did recognize me. If you don't mind my asking, are you a squib?"

Shibuya glanced up at him, though he never stopped typing.

"No, but I am in contact with several squibs. At first I was unsure if you were an imposter, but after close scrutiny I've decided you're telling the truth."

Close scrutiny? Harry hadn't noticed, Shibuya had looked much more intent on staring down Hara and educating Taniyama to grant him much attention. Had he been snooping through the Daily Prophet?

"I'm glad I suppose." Harry said awkwardly, and switched the subject.

"Going back to your question, I haven't sensed anything at all. My school held a poltergeist and I've met many since, and I've already stated that I don't believe that's what this is."

Shibuya looked up again and this time held his gaze. Was this his close scrutiny?

"Thank you, that was all." And Shibuya looked back at his screen, effectively dismissing him.

"Actually do you mind if I sit here with you? I don't want to go back in just yet." Harry chuckled, and the teenager gave a sigh.

"So long as you're quiet."

Harry didn't thank him, instead he folded his legs and sat on the curb beside the van. He didn't want to sit inside with Shibuya, the open street and unbridled wind was like water against a burn.

Shibuya's endless typing seemed softer than before, Harry tilted his head and watched the clouds slide across the sky. The sun had dipped enough that the long shadows hadn't yet reached him, but the sunlight wasn't harsh either. Harry basked under the warm light.

He could feel his hackles drop and his heart rate even out, it really had just been nerves. He was fine. He didn't work with others regularly, rarely there would be another runemaster or some sort of manager overseeing his work, but never this sort of competitive clash of strangers.

Harry huffed. He had gone soft over the past two years if stress from grouchy coworkers had provoked him of all things. Or perhaps he hadn't noticed his limits before, when he could sharpen his aggression by the fire with eyes ever searching the edge of their camp.

Oh well, he'd bitten it back and wouldn't have to apologize to the infuriating monk, it wasn't all bad. Harry wasn't sure if he could say anything sincerely to the man, let alone an apology.

Harry shut his eyes as the wind picked up, combing cold fingers through his bangs, and pulled a book out of his bag.

* * *

 

"Harry?"

Harry glanced up from the paperback, moving from melodramatic chase scenes to stare into guilty blues.

Harry straightened and bookmarked the page he was on. How much time had passed? It looked to be approaching dusk soon. It had only felt like a few minutes shared with the detective and her criminal lover. Just as he’d predicted, the vigilante had given up his illegal pastime in order to save his love from her captor.

"Hey John, are you going to do an exorcism?" He asked curiously, looking over the formal black robe and rosary the priest was sporting. He even had a small bible tucked under his arm.

"Yes, I'm going to start in a few minutes if you'd like to see, but that's not what I came out here for." John admitted, shifting uncomfortably. Harry waited, tucking the book into his satchel.

"I would just like to apologize for anything Monk said to hurt your feelings. If I had known it was bothering you I would have stopped him." He managed earnestly, worrying the beads of the rosary in one hand.

Harry smiled, working with others wasn't so bad if that meant he got to speak to people like John. He could appreciate the rare brand of honesty and kindness in the teenaged priest, it was hard to find. No wonder he was ordained so young.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, I could've said something instead of stomping off." He told the other gently, pulling himself on his feet.

John chewed on his lip. "Monk didn't mean it either. I won't lie and say he was being polite, but he didn't mean to make you so uncomfortable." He blurted like Harry would cut him off at any second.

Harry made sure he didn't, still and silent. He liked John and he had been immature earlier, so he would listen. "I understand that it was just teasing," he began, "and I will continue to work with him. But I don't expect him to apologize and I don't expect we'll ever be friends."

John shifted and squirmed for several awkward seconds before nodding sharply.

"I understand." It wasn't approval, but it wasn't disapproval. Harry would take it.

"Enough of that." Harry clapped his hands together and worked himself into excitement. "Let's go see your exorcism!"

John drew himself up in a serious manner and nodded solemnly, hands clenched around his bible. He looked every bit the proud man of God. They walked back into the building together side by side.

* * *

 

"There you are," Taniyama greeted when Harry entered Shibuya's room of monitors. "You didn't want to stay with John?" She must've seen them walk in together from the cameras.

"It's a little dangerous to stay in the same room as an exorcism without protection." He quoted stiffly. Though he was touched over John's concern, he didn't like being sent away on the grounds that should John somehow come in contact with a spirit, a runemaster would be completely vulnerable.

Shibuya's assistant glanced at Matsuzaki for a moment before turning back to the screens to watch John. She must be thinking about the principal and vice-principal's injuries, by the sour expression on Matsuzaki's face she'd come to that conclusion as well. At least they didn't argue about it.

A soft crackle caught everyone's attention, it was coming from the speaker.

"More strange noises." Kuroda mumbled to herself.

"Wait, turn up the volume." Takigawa told Taniyama, leaning over the chair to get a better look.

John was standing in the middle of the room downstairs, his open bible was held to his chest and he was still reading. Hadn't he heard the noise too? Harry moved closer, trying to make out the priest's expression.

The prayer came out louder when Taniyama cranked the dial, and static crunching noises carried through clearly.

John still didn't look up from the bible even as the crackle deepened menacingly, had he managed to catch the attention of a spirit?

Harry checked on both his glyphs and the report came back clean, so what was making that sound?

It was then that he noticed the ceiling curve and distort, the wallpaper twisting around the wooden frame. The noise was coming from there, with each twist the crunches grew louder. And John still hadn't looked up from the bible.

Did he honestly intend to remain praying even as the room came down on him?

Harry took off, tearing out of the room and taking the stairs two steps at a time. He couldn't find the breath to pant, every cell of his body urging him faster.

Harry barely made the turn of the hallway racing up to the second floor, without concern he immediately dug his heels into the splintering wood floors to halt before John's room. The creaking and groaning were so much louder now, John was almost shouting above the din to be heard.

He threw open the door and didn't bother with words. Already he could see the cracks forming over their heads and the screeching of floorboards shifting together was almost deafening.

"Harry what-?" John only had enough time to get that out before Harry crossed the room and grabbed his arm. With a bruising grip, he dragged the both of them to the door, but he was already too late.

With only seconds to react, Harry recognized the sudden roar and tackled the blond to the ground instead, covering as much as he could of the larger teenager. He didn't get a chance to do anything else before the ceiling came crashing down.

He would never regret becoming a runemaster, but knowing wandless magic would've been useful then.

* * *

 

...

"-ohn? Harry? Just stay right there I'll get Naru!"

...

"Hey, are you guys okay?"

...

"Can you stand?"

"I-I'm fine, but I don't know about-"

"Harry!"

"Wait, don't touch him yet."

...

"...Harry?"

...

Harry felt hands straighten him out, smoothing around his head and rolling him onto his back.

Harry forced his eyes open and they began watering immediately as the thick clouds of dust settled over him. His whole body throbbed like one giant bruise.

"Neither of them are bleeding but John has a pretty good bump on his head." Matsuzaki told someone.

"It's nothing, I don't even think it will bruise." John spoke from a little further away and he sounded frightened.

Harry jerked upright, looking for the threat. It was incredibly dark though. His teary eyes flickered and the ground roiled uncertainly. Two hands settled on his shoulders, holding him still.

"Woah man, relax for a moment. Are you hurt anywhere?" It was Takigawa hanging over him, searching his face for something with a worried pinch between his eyes.

" _ What happened... _ " And then he remembered.

Harry turned away from the monk to see the floor littered in plaster and broken beams, almost bathed white by the debris. The ceiling above was just a few standing boards and the jagged remains of what came spilling onto their heads.

"How's John?" His head snapped back to Takigawa quick enough to startle him.

" _ I'm fine, Harry. You saved me just in time. What about you? _ " John pulled himself into the decimated room and out of Matsuzaki's clutches to kneel beside Harry. His hair was a sandy grey with plaster and there was a sizable knot on the side of his head, but he looked fine besides.

"I'm okay." Harry said a bit slowly, looking down at himself to check for any splinters or bruises of his own. There was some tell-tale soreness around his back and shoulders, but he was miraculously unharmed.

"Here, let me help you up." Takigawa pulled away to climb to his feet and then hoisted Harry gently. Harry accepted the hand and got on his own legs only to let out a hiss of pain.

"What's wrong?" Both John, Matsuzaki, and Takigawa crowded close, looking for the injury they missed.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Harry waved them away, favoring his right leg. "Just sore."

Now that he was no longer filled to the brim with adrenalin and worry, his hip made it very clear that he wasn't allowed to jump up stairs and launch at people in the same day. It wasn't agonizing, the pain had only taken him by surprise.

"That's not just being sore, did you strain yourself?" John studied the leg as though he could see straight through trousers and skin to check over the muscle and bone beneath.

Despite the pain stabbing into his upper thigh, Harry felt better standing up. The daze fell away and he was aware of everyone huddled close, but staying out in the hallway with flashlights. The crash must have scared them.

"Don't worry about it, old injury." He sighed airily, and limped out of the wreckage. Chunks of splinter and plaster fell off his shoulders as he moved, Harry probably looked just as bad as John.

"Maybe you should see a doctor just in case." Matsuzaki hummed disapprovingly so Harry struck a pose, arms outstretched.

"I'm totally unharmed guys, there's nothing to treat but a little arthritis."

"Harry!" Kuroda must've taken his stance as a welcome because in three bold leaps she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Hey, what did I say about touching him yet? There are still splinters in his shirt!" Takigawa barked over his head, and Harry shot him a look.

" _ He _ is right here."

"We saw what you did from the camera, it was incredibly heroic!" Kuroda buried her head into Harry's neck, which must've been uncomfortable.

Harry pat her hesitantly, trying not to lean away too obviously. He had no idea Kuroda liked him so much, she hadn't been nearly as concerned over Hara.

"I just jumped on him. I might have caused that bump, in fact." He chuckled weakly, pulling her away to give a reassuring smile. In all honesty he wasn't used to giving this kind of comfort, the kind that wasn't a bottle of firewhiskey and a shoulder to cry on.

"We're all fine, it was just loud."

Her wobbling lip firmed a bit and she bobbed her head before squeezing him into one last hug.

To Harry's utter relief she let go and stepped away, looking decidedly less distraught.

"In the interest in safety I think we should call it for the night." Shibuya announced, peeking busily into the room with a flashlight of his own. What was he looking for?

"Mai, you're dismissed." He threw over his shoulder distractedly and the girl perked. "Really?"

"...yes."

Shibuya's decision seemed to be the right one, everyone relaxed and let tired little smiles flit across their faces. Had they been expecting to stay the night after the ceiling had come down like that?

"Alright, I guess I'll be back bright and early. While there's still life, there's still hope." Matsuzaki said with a cheerfulness Harry hadn't heard from her before.

"Just admit it and say you're scared." Takigawa jabbed with a much more familiar smirk, and the woman stormed away without another word. The monk followed after her playfully.

John watched Shibuya step into the room with a badly disguised frown. "Well, seeing as I nearly lost my head a minute ago, I think I'll take you advice and retire for the evening."

But instead of leaving, he approached Harry. "Please allow me to walk you home." There wasn’t a hint of self-consciousness on his face, all business.

Harry blanched and shook his head. "No thank you, I can get there fine on my own."

John's frown deepened, and his eyes fell back to Harry's leg. "I insist. It's my fault you're hurt after all."

Harry shook his head again, taking an unbalanced step back. "It's not your fault, I was the one who chose to run like a maniac. I'm not hurt, either. It's just arthritis, I can barely feel it."

John stepped forward and carefully snagged his wrist in a slow mimicry of what Harry had done to him before the ceiling fell.

"Then please let me walk you home as a friend, it would make me feel much better if I knew you'd arrived safely." He urged, and Harry's cheeks grew hot.

He didn't want to show his friend the seedy motel he was staying at, and it irked him a little that the priest was treating him like a child again. But he couldn't lie and say he still wasn't touched by John's kindness.

"If you're very sure," Harry began reluctantly, "you can walk me halfway home. But I'm  _ your  _ friend too, and it would make me feel better knowing you got home at a normal time."

John smiled happily, and it didn't escape Harry that the priest remained quiet.

"Please allow me to come as well." Kuroda asked, and this time Harry was much firmer.

"Sorry, but we've kept you out more than long enough. Your parents will be concerned soon and I'm not going to allow a minor to wander around at night, especially for my sake."

She scowled angrily, but held in her biting words. It wouldn't have mattered, Harry wasn't going to budge. He had kept the girl in the dangerous building for long enough.

"Fine." She snapped, and stomped down the stairs and out the door.

Harry and John waited a few minutes to make sure Kuroda was really gone before departing themselves.

Harry hobbled down the steps with a strong hold on the railing and kept his face blank in case John glanced behind. His hip prickled and burned, well and truly pissed off at him.

When they made it outside John paused, watching him catch up with a rather soulful look on his face.

" _ You put yourself in danger for my sake just now and I didn't get the chance to say it before, but thank you very much. I promise I won't forget it. _ "

Harry felt completely unprepared for yet another vulnerable show of emotion, his face grew hot and he worked hard to keep his eyes from skittering to the side. The priest's straightforward sincerity could be dangerous at times.

" _ Um, y-you're welcome. You don't have to thank me though, what are friends for, right? _ " He stammered. And it hadn't been much. Anyone would help their friend if they could see the threat ahead of time, and throwing himself on top of John hadn't done a lot of good anyway. Harry was certain John would've rather walked away with a bruised back like Harry than the knock to his head.

" _ What are friends for _ ." John echoed warmly, and thankfully started walking again. Harry was scared for a moment that he was going to be hugged again.

The runemaster relaxed when that steady gaze finally slid away and limped alongside John.

They fell into a companionable silence for a few minutes, admiring the night sky and relaxing after such a taxing day. So much happened, from Hara's fall to the principal and vice-principal's injuries. Regardless of whether or not the building was haunted it was an intense place to be in.

" _ May I ask you something? You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable. _ " John interrupted Harry's reverie as they crossed a street.

" _ Sure. _ " Harry shrugged, he had a pretty good idea what John was going to ask.

" _ How did you acquire your injury? _ " John didn't specify, but he was watching Harry's gait meaningfully. It didn't hurt enough to warrant his emergency stash of pain-reducers, but the hot jab of each step made it impossible to mask his wobbly limp.

Harry couldn't very well tell the truth, but he didn't want to lie to his friend. Thankfully he had been around enough Muggle clients to have cultivated the best response.

" _ I was injured in a fight a few years ago and it didn't heal properly. _ " It would never heal properly. But given time, he was optimistic about fading. The much smaller scar on his forehead had taken sixteen years to fade, and that was with a horcrux exacerbating it. Hermione had given an estimation of twenty years, but she took care not to factor in any personal faith in order to avoid giving him false hope. So it could be less.

" _ I'm sorry. _ " John spoke solemnly, and didn't probe deeper. Which was fine with Harry, it got awkward speaking about Voldemort and his Death Eaters in muggle terms. Not many people believed him when he spoke about teenage scuffles with fearsome neo-Nazi gangs after all.

" _ It's fine. I'm fine. _ " Harry said strongly, throwing an extra skip in his step to get slightly ahead and make sure John was watching him. He had already dealt with his friends' sorrow and he didn't want to go over it again. There wasn't any need to mourn him when he was doing the things he loved.

A ghostly smile slanted across John's face and he looked down at his shoes. " _ Then I'm glad. _ "

Harry was glad as well, he had found a good friend in this little town.

* * *

 

Harry overslept.

He had gone to bed throbbing and exhausted and had gotten up well after dawn the following morning. Petunia would've killed him if he had dared pull such a stunt in his youth,  it would be lunch time in only a few hours.

Harry scrambled off his bed and darted for the tiny shower, he was already at the bottom of the totem pole for being a runemaster, he couldn't afford to add lazy to the list or none of his coworkers would ever respect him.

He was washed and changed within twenty minutes and jogging out the door with a bagel in hand.

His leg still hurt, but it wasn't so fresh. Harry could hide it easily and if he sat a little more today and put less pressure on the joint he should be right as rain within a day or two.

* * *

 

"Sorry I'm late!" Harry panted, turning the street corner and jogging up the road to the old school house.

Harry stopped short when he realized no one was there. The doors were still shut and there weren't any spiritualists sitting on the porch. Was he the first one to arrive?

Harry spotted Shibuya's van parked by the building and approached curiously. He wouldn't leave it overnight, right?

The back was hanging open, and inside Shibuya was slumped by a computer with a coat carelessly tossed across his shoulders for a poor imitation of a blanket. Harry couldn't judge anyone for sleeping near their work, but it was worrying to realize he hadn't left the volatile building after everyone else. What if he had gotten hurt?

Harry came closer and inspected the ghost hunter. He didn't appear injured or harried, but there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was messier than usual.

Harry backed away to avoid waking Shibuya up and shuffled aimlessly on the property. He didn't want to interrupt what little sleep Shibuya was getting but he also didn't want to leave him to go inside. What if someone tried stealing his computer? Or if he shifted into the sunlight and got heatstroke under his black coat? It was rather warm today and Shibuya was even paler than Harry.

Harry's dilemma was solved when Taniyama came bounding up the block, making a bee-line toward her employer. She apparently had no qualms waking the teenager up. "Oh hello, Harry! Naru? Did you sleep here last night? That can't be good for you."

Harry blinked. What's a Naru? 

Shibuya stirred and blinked sleepily, looking up at the both of them. A hand rose to brush his bangs away from his face, but it just made his hair more unkempt. "Hey Potter, Mai. What are you two doing here at this hour?"

Taniyama froze beside him, so Harry answered.

"It's almost noon, Shibuya. When did you go to sleep?"

"Morning!" Takigawa interrupted cheerfully, they all turned to find Matsuzaki and John standing with him. "Looks like someone had a rough night!"

"Looks to me like someone's trying to leave early." Matsuzaki said, sickly sweet.

"You're right." Shibuya deadpanned and Harry spun right back around.

Shibuya was rude and antisocial, but no one who felt intimidated by the building would spend the night alone working in it. He had seemed just as invested as everyone else in solving the case.

"Why?" Harry had to ask.

"Because I already solved the case." Shibuya watched all four of them gape.

"So you cleaned that schoolhouse by yourself?" Takigawa guessed, and Shibuya shook his head.

"No, I didn't do that. There was no need to." Harry perked, so that meant his glyphs had been correct. There hadn't been a spirit after all. But what had caused the phenomena?

"What did you figure out?" He asked eagerly.

"What did you do?" Taniyama chimed in, leaning closer to get a look at Shibuya's computer.

The ghost hunter shifted the laptop to face them as he pulled up lines and charts of all sorts. "Last night I compiled all of my experiments, these are some surveyings. The schoolhouse is sinking. In fact, it sank point-two inches just last night."

Takigawa yelped. "It  _ what _ ?"

"It's called subsidence." Shibuya offered.

"Yeah, so what? You think subsidence is to blame for the phenomena we experienced?" Matsuzaki scoffed.

Shibuya switched to a topical map. "This entire area is reclaimed swamp land. When I looked into the distribution of wells that were once in use, I discovered a large aquifer that passed underneath the schoolhouse. But when I checked the wells that are in the immediate area I found I found them all to be dry." He explained. All the while, Harry couldn't help the slowly growing grin on his face. It all made sense, it explained everything. From the chair sliding to the windows breaking, to the ceiling caving.

"Which means...?" Taniyama hummed.

"The soil here was weak to begin with and since the water is dried up there's a hollowing effect happening underground, so naturally the structure built above it will be sinking." Shibuya summed up for them.

"So you're saying the glass, the chair moving, and collapsing were all due to subsidence?" Takigawa questioned slowly.

"Yes, the floor in the classroom on the Eastern side of the building where the ceiling collapsed was three inches lower than on the West side." No wonder it had taken Shibuya all night, he had been remarkably thorough. Harry should've expected that from such a young and successful businessman, he supposed

"But what about the strange noises?" Matsuzaki sounded markedly less smug now.

"Probably the sound of the wood shifting." Shibuya closed his computer and climbed out of his van. "We should have the surrounding area declared off-limits. It's so structurally unsound it might come down any day now."

Harry winced. It could have collapsed while he had been sleeping on his first day, or while he was working with Kuroda. Or any time in between. He had been very lucky this time around, he would have to remember to be more aware of his physical environment on his next case. Wizard or no, that wasn't a situation he wanted to be in.

Shibuya tucked his computer into a shelf and waltzed into the building as if he hadn't just decided it was a death trap.

The rest of them shuffled and hesitated, even Taniyama. But Harry needed to diffuse his two glyphs and Taniyama had to help pack up all that equipment, so they finally crept inside.

He could hear the others walking deliberately slowly behind them before ducking inside and heading for the bottom of the stairs.

Taniyama brushed past him to follow her boss and he knelt beside his triad set. Matsuzaki and Takigawa trailed after the school girl.

Harry pressed his palm against the warm triad and began the careful work of untangling them. They were almost completely fused, but he could still snag onto their separate strands and weave the runes apart. The magic fought, pulling in tight, but he smoothed them right back out again and pulled them apart.

Once Harry fully separated his Sowilo he went to work diffusing it, tugging the magic loose and letting it dissipate into the air. After that, he didn't need to rip the paper and instead moved on to the next one.

He pulled the Ansuz away next, the hold weaker without Sowilo. He pulled the magic apart, dodging a static crackle before he finished.

By the time he completely neutralized Algiz, Kuroda had arrived.

"Good morning." Harry greeted politely, tucking the papers into his pocket. She tracked his movement for a moment.

"Good morning, Harry." She murmured. "What are you doing?"

Harry did his very best to remain calm and unaffected even as he cringed inside. He didn't want to be anywhere near this girl's tantrum when she found out they were leaving.

"Diffusing my detection glyph." He got back to his feet. "There's one more upstairs." He added lamely, before retreating to the second floor.

Kuroda didn't follow him, thankfully. Instead stalking to Shibuya's classroom where she would undoubtedly hear the news.

Harry distracted himself with his second triad, kneeling before it and going to work untangling the glyph.

It didn't take long, by the time he'd caught a strand he could hear her voice raised in anger.

Harry heard Shibuya snap in the middle of diffusing his Algiz, clear voice ringing. Was that going to devolve into a full blown argument?

Harry had to focus to successfully neutralize his other two runes and stopped paying attention to the murmuring below his feet.

He was very lucky that he finished in time to get back to the first floor when a crash shook the entire building. He’d rather not fall on a structurally unsound second level. The commotion came from Shibuya's classroom.

Harry tried to run in, but the doors suddenly began slamming open and closed and nearly caught his hands in a thunderous smash. The paper was shredded and he could see clearly into the room. Everyone looked terrified, and Kuroda was crouched in a circle of shattered glass.

"What's going on?" He demanded over the clammer.

"Well it's more than just the place sinking!" Takigawa snapped much to Harry's irritation.

"Well? Naru?" Taniyama snarled at Shibuya, who was watching the doors in utter shock.

Seeing that his coworkers weren't going to be any help, Harry left to snatch a chair from the other room.

"Back away from the door!" Harry barked, and waited for them to clamber backwards before throwing the chair as hard as he could against the mangled sliding panels. They splintered under the force, clearing the way and dragging Shibuya out of his daze.

"This is it! Everybody out!"

No one needed a second opinion, and in a rush of feet and panting, they were bursting outside. The building went eerily quiet as soon as their feet left the porch.

"I-is anyone hurt?" Harry wheezed, searching the recovering spiritualists for any obvious injuries.

"Kuroda cut her hand, but it just needs a bandage." Matsuzaki reported softly, curled around the silent girl. Taniyama stumbled over to comfort her so Harry didn't bother.

"What was that?" Takigawa growled, pinning a vicious glare on Shibuya. "And don't try to feed me that 'sinking theory' again. That was a full-on poltergeist wasn't it?"

"That sound wasn't just the creaking of an old building," Matsuzaki joined in. "something was definitely banging on those-"

"Hey, you're bleeding." Harry interrupted, pushing past Takigawa to get a better look at Shibuya's hand. He was keeping it slightly tucked under the cuff of his coat, but the blood was dripping down his fingers.

Shibuya pulled away before Harry could touch him, tense and guarded. "It's just a scratch." He hissed coldly.

"Just goes to show that you can't depend too much on technology." Matsuzaki sneered, completely ignoring the injury. "For a minute there I was actually about to  _ believe  _ you and your phony results."

"Exactly how where they phony?" Harry challenged, temper hot. "He explained every piece of evidence he found and every conclusion he made from it, and it was  _ sound _ . You believed it because his theory was credible!"

"Of course the runemaster is going to back up the wannabe-ghost hunter." Matsuzaki's grin was all teeth. "You two are completely useless when dealing with an actual poltergeist so you may as well make up your own results to sucker people out of their money."

"Stick around, kids, and you'll see how the  _ true  _ professionals do things." Takigawa jeered and the two flounced off the property and down the street together.

"What's with them?" Taniyama huffed. "I haven't seen  _ them  _ doing anything productive."

Harry tried approaching Shibuya again, his hand still hadn't stopped bleeding.

"You need to get that hand looked at, or at least disinfected and wrapped." He fretted.

"I will be fine." Shibuya snapped. "You should just tend to Kuroda."

Kuroda's wound was already wrapped and wasn't bleeding freely. Harry surged forward and snatched the ghost hunter's wrist.

Shibuya tore his arm away with brutal strength, casting wild eyes over his shoulder. He looked fit to scream. "I'd appreciate it if you left me alone right now." His soft growl may as well have been a roar for all the quivering fury in his tone.

"I'm so mad at myself I could throw up."

Without waiting for a response, Shibuya stormed away in a mood as black as his shirt.

* * *

 

Harry took a moment for himself after that, staring up at the school house.

He had been so sure not even an hour ago that he was right, and he had proven himself as a runemaster in the paranormal profession. He had dissolved both his triads with glee, ready to pick up another case with newfound confidence.

All of that was moot now, he had been completely wrong. For all that everything had made so much sense in a scientific frame, the last phenomenon had blown subsidence completely out of the water.

The building was haunted, and Harry hadn't sensed anything the entire time.

Harry liked the challenge, and he liked to learn new things. But for something that could so clearly evade both runic and technological detection, perhaps he was outmatched. What could he do against something that wasn't affected by detection or disruption runes? If he couldn't even see the spirit, how could he help?

Harry sighed. He needed to pull himself together.

This despair was probably just proving Matsuzaki right. Isn't it worse to quit than fail? He came here to learn, and learning didn't always mean success.

He would take a moment to cool off and then go at it again, he just needed some space. Maybe some lunch would help him, or writing a letter to Ron and Hermione. Just being away from the building, that's what he needed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CASE 1

Harry came back that night, wary and tense. He held tight to a satchel full of runes and a head full of ideas.

The moon glinted silver off the rotting wood of the schoolhouse making it gleam, a threatening protrusion than reached too far into the sky. In the darkness, Harry felt like he was walking into enemy territory.

The monk was going to attempt his own exorcism, and for all that the man was childish and irritating, Harry would watch. Taniyama had bravely returned as well, hefting equipment back into the building to record any further activity. She had a permanent scowl fixed on her face that only darkened whenever Takigawa or Matsuzaki entered the room.

John seemed to be the only one in high spirits, helping Taniyama with the heavier things. 

“Harry!” The priest greeted him past the hall, camera stand tucked under one arm. “I didn’t get a chance to speak with you earlier.”

“It was a hectic morning,” Harry said wryly. This case was becoming a monster, it’d been awhile since he’d felt nervous enough to tuck his wand into the sleeve of his coat. But with a building liable to collapse at any moment and housing a malevolent being that had yet to show itself, he felt naked without the press of holly against his forearm.

“Speaking of, how are you? You weren’t hurt?” There was a splotch of sickly yellow sitting on John’s temple, offset by his blond hair, but that had been from Harry’s failed rescue the night before.

John readjusted the stand. “Not a scratch if you can believe it. We were very lucky.” He sighed, and then gave Harry a clear once-over. A wrinkle pinched between his eyes.

“What about you? You’re still limping, is your leg bothering you?” 

To Harry’s chagrin, hiding the arthritis was no longer an option. He hadn’t been able to rest his leg all day and it had only gotten stiffer and sorer since that morning. Harry would have to ice the joint if he didn’t want to draw even more attention to the injury by using a crutch the next day. Even leaning casually on his good leg didn’t stave off the jabbing pain in his pelvis.

“It’s a little stiff,” Harry admitted and switched tracks. “Are you here to watch the exorcism too?”

John’s expression didn’t change. “I am. You should sit down while Monk prepares.”

He ducked out of the hallway and into an adjacent room before Harry could decline. It sounded as though John was busy adjusting the stand on uneven floorboards and so Harry took his opportunity to limp deeper into the schoolhouse.

Only the hallways and a few rooms were lit, the rest were pitch black and ever creaking. Harry had no idea how he managed to sleep in such an unsettling place on his first day in Japan, the schoolhouse seemed so sinister now.

In a particularly large classroom at the end of the hallway, a bored looking Matsuzaki stood at the door. “Monk’s exorcising in here.” 

Harry poked his head past the priestess, the desks had been pushed away from the front of the classroom to make room for Takigawa, centered in full robes. He hadn’t started chanting yet, instead speaking with a ferocious Taniyama. Whatever the subject was, she looked fit to bash Takigawa over the head with the microphone device in her arms.

To Harry’s bewilderment, as soon as he hobbled past the doorway the monk jolted and broke free of the girl to crowd in on him instead.

Harry hunkered a little lower to the ground, ready to duck an attack no matter how his hip screeched.

“Hey man, you sure you wanna be here?” Takigawa asked in an odd tone, not goading. “I know I was kind of a punk earlier but I’m not gonna judge if you bail tonight.”

Harry took a quick step back and out from under the looming man. “I don’t leave cases half-finished.”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty dark out and since I’m doing my exorcism you’re just wasting your night.” Takigawa shrugged, Harry had no clue where he was coming from.

“It’s not a problem.” He said slowly.

The monk looked frustrated. What was he trying to pull? “How do you think you’re going to help with a leg injury? You can’t detect or defend yourself against ghosts and now you can’t run. This place is dangerous even for spiritualists.”

Anger sparked in his chest, sending heat through his system. “I can-”

“Sorry that took so long,” John interrupted, hopping from the hallway to right in between Harry and Takigawa. “Had to make sure the camera was recording. What’s going on?” 

“I was just assuring Takigawa that I am able to pull my own weight and won’t be deterred by any  _ assumptions _ others might make of me.” Harry hissed, the tip of his wand a brand against his skin.

John rounded on Takigawa. “I didn’t mean it like that!” The man protested, “He’s limping so badly- and with what happened yesterday it isn’t safe for him to stay!”

“That is my decision to make, and it’s not safe for  _ anyone _ in the building. Being a spiritualist doesn’t guarantee protection against whatever is in this place, and it certainly won’t help if  the roof caves in.” Harry snapped, he was their only line of defense if the schoolhouse collapses like Shibuya predicted. It would mean a round of obliviating and the Japanese Ministry of Magic, but no one would die on his watch.

Under the combined glares of Harry and John, Takigawa squirmed. 

“Fine whatever,  just stay with the group.” He huffed angrily and broke away from the confrontation in a hurry.

Harry opened his mouth to refute another unwelcome order when John gave him a nudge with his elbow. The priest shook his head once Harry caught his eyes, firm. 

Neither of them held any authority over Harry, and he didn’t want to give them the impression that they did. But he wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t allow any other member to wander away and he needed to remain close by in case magic was necessary. 

With a theatrically put-upon expression, Harry gave a defeated shrug and allowed himself to be steered into a chair against the wall while Takigawa began his exorcism.

* * *

 

“Can I talk to you?” 

Harry stared at Takigawa reluctantly, after the uneventful exorcism he had been eager to retreat to a quiet corner and work on a better glyph set, and much more eager to avoid further interaction with the monk.

John ducked out of the room with an unsubtle look of encouragement on his face that immediately implicated him as a cause for the conversation. Matsuzaki and Taniyama had already left as well, so the two were now alone in the classroom.

“Sure.” Harry wandered back to his chair from the freedom of the hallway, his hip ached when he lowered himself back down.

Takigawa shuffled awkwardly for a few moments, pursing his lips and strangely resembling a scolded child. He really was nothing like any monk Harry had ever met in his tours of Asia.

The silence stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the creaks and groans of the walls around them.

“Well if you’re not-”   
“I’m sorry.” The monk blurted, face red. 

Harry stared, nonplussed. What was with these mood-swings?

“I keep saying the wrong things but I’ve been meaning to apologize since yesterday morning.” Takigawa continued, carefully not making eye contact.

“What are you sorry for?” Harry couldn’t help asking. The man certainly hadn’t appeared contrite when he called Harry a burden just ten minutes earlier.

“I screwed up when I called you pipsqueak, I was just messing around but I guess I took it too far.” He mumbled, “And John said I implied that you were a fraud or something, after the last big attack, you know? I don’t really remember what I said, I was just so mad at Naru. And just right now I messed up and made you all defensive.” He trailed off, flopping a hand helplessly.

Takigawa paused and pulled in a deep breath, like he had rehearsed the next part. “I think you’re way over your head with this case, the principal made a mistake hiring you, and that runology has no place in spiritualism-”

“Is this part of your apology? Because it s-”

“ _ But! _ I also think you are a genuine, hard working runemaster.” Takigawa finished loudly. “You have a respectable work ethic and you seem like a pretty cool guy.”

This time, Harry felt his face heat up with alarming swiftness, unprepared for the heap of earnest compliments. “T-thank you?”

Takigawa shook his head roughly as if to dispel Harry’s words. “I still stand by what I said about your being here, it just doesn’t mean I don’t like you or your work. And I really don’t want to fight you or whatever I’ve been doing, okay?”

The man risked an anxious glance down at Harry’s face. “So are we good?”

Harry nodded jerkily, he would much rather forgive Takigawa for his childish taunts than prolong this any further.

The monk let out a gust of relief and grinned toothily. “Great, less tension all around you know? Could you call me Monk or Hoshou now?”

“You don’t like Takigawa?” Shibuya called him that too, and Harry had no indication that the man disliked it.

“It’s fine for things like business meetings and stuffy Mt. Koya ceremonies, but I like to think I’m more of a casual kind of guy.” He shrugged lazily. 

Harry could agree with that. “Then I’ll call you Monk, like Taniyama does.” He didn’t put a lot of importance into names, but he generally liked to call only his friends by their first names, and he wasn’t sure how this truce would turn out. Monk gave him an approving thumbs up.

Harry pulled himself back onto his feet, digging the palm of his heel into the pulsating pain in his hip and they moved to finally exit the room. 

“Oh, Monk,” He remembered to say, making sure the man was listening. “I can respect thinking a runemaster can’t handle spirits, so you have to respect that I don’t think you exorcised this one.” No one had outright said it, but the disappointing silence during the chant hadn’t instilled much confidence.

Monk frowned immediately, indignation in his eyes. Harry watched closely, exactly how much of that apology had been orchestrated by John?

To the man’s credit, he deflated in the next moment and gave a casual wave. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.” 

He turned into the hallway and headed off to the Shibuya’s chosen headquarters, Harry stared after him but made no move to follow.

Perhaps Monk wasn’t so bad after all. 

Harry rolled his shoulder and crossed away from the others. He doubted it would remain peaceful for long, especially with Taniyama’s temper, and he would rather find a secluded spot nearby.

* * *

 

He was going over different detection glyphs in his head. Perhaps a full on summoning set might work, or should he switch to elementals and wait for something to catch? Sometimes spirits were vulnerable to water or fire runes and might try destroying it. His detection glyphs had been complete failures so he’ll have to focus more on blind defense and offense in hopes of inciting a reaction.

"I thought we agreed not to go out alone." An accented voice murmured from the hallway.

Harry spun around, startled. John had popped his head in, eyes catching on Harry's notepad. It must've looked like gibberish to him, all theoretical half-drawn runes.

"I’m not alone. The others are only a few doors down." Harry huffed as he reclined back into his chair, and John managed to look amused and disapproving at the same time.

"I don’t think that’s how Hoshou meant it."

"You're by yourself." Harry pointed out, and John shook his head.

"I'm just setting up cameras for Mai. You should come back with me."

Harry couldn't deny that John was right, and the dark room was creepy enough without knowing some invisible spirit was lurking to border on distracting. He wordlessly tucked his notepad in his bag and trailed after the smiling priest.

“So you talked to Monk about me?” Harry prompted once they exited the room, and John had the grace to look bashful.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds.”

Harry maintained his lighthearted manner. “Well, I think we both came to an understanding so I suppose you succeeded.” He allowed. “But next time just talk to me, I don’t like it when people go over my head.”

No more people who know what’s best for him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” John protested, eyes wide.

“I don’t care how you meant it, talk to me next time and let me handle my own problems.” Harry pressed, his casual demeanor cracking around the edges. The priest looked abashed, nodding urgently. 

“Of course, of course. That wasn’t my intention at all.” John promised, so Harry bobbed his head in acknowledgment. It hadn’t been a big issue, but he would much rather kick up a fuss and nip that kind of in-your-best-interest thinking in the bud.

He let John speak with Taniyama at the stairs before allowing himself to be dragged around the building in the name of looking for clues. He had a sneaking suspicion John was also trying to avoid getting in the middle of a shouting match, but he wouldn't call him on it.

Instead, they walked through the haunted school house quietly, eyes peeling for spirits.

Harry’s hard lean off of his burning leg gave his footsteps an uneven croak across the floorboards that had them jolting often, but no actual paranormal activity could be found.

Working together they reached the back of the building quickly and doubled back, and that was when John stilled.

" _ Do you hear that? _ " He asked softly, and Harry strained his ears.

The ceiling was tapping hollowly, as if someone was walking in a straight and steady line up the hall. Harry firmed his grip on the wand hidden in his sleeve and hedged closer to John.

It was heading for the stairs, and the closer they got, the harder it was to hear over the arguing at the bottom.

"Shh!" John hushed seriously, catching everyone's attention. "I hear something."

This was enough for the spiritualists and the recently arrived Kuroda to finally quiet and Harry could hear much clearer now. It was stalking circles around the top of the stairs, teasing them.

"Someone's here." Matsuzaki whispered.

"I know." Monk hadn't shouted, but in the hushed silence, his words rang loudly.

The thumping began descending the stairs and Monk chased after it, racing up the stairs and out of sight.

"Are you nuts?" Taniyama demanded shrilly behind him.

The man didn't return immediately and there wasn't any noise after he reached the second floor.

"Do you see anything?" Harry called.

Monk responded quickly and didn't sound distressed in the least. "Nope, must've imagined it."

"That's crazy-  _ all  _ of us?" Taniyama scoffed loudly as the monk went back down the stairs. "I definitely heard something! You heard it too, right Monk?"

"It was just the wind." Matsuzaki hummed carelessly, and this was the last straw for Taniyama. Her face turned tomato-red and she wheeled to face the two eldest in the room,

"I am sick of this! You didn't get rid of them either, did you? After what you said to Naru, this makes you look so stupid!" Her tirade continued, "I don't remember Naru coming up with any lame excuses, do you? Funny how the adults are acting like chil-"

A loud knock sounded right above Taniyama, cutting her off effectively.

The knocks came back, harder and faster. They shook the floorboards above their head, raining dust down.

The lights shattered one by one off the ceiling, glittering like burning embers even as it plunged them into darkness deep in the grasp of the schoolhouse. Harry’s heart thudded in his chest, harmonizing with the pounding slams of the walls and ceilings.

"This is the most activity we've seen yet!" John announced.

"Sounds like there's more than one!" Monk sounded alarmed now, turning to the others. "It's dangerous in here, let's get outside."

"I'm right behind you," Taniyama promised, "Come on Kuroda, follow me!"

In an unspoken command to form pairs, Taniyama and Kuroda took the lead, followed by Harry and John, with Matsuzaki and Monk on the rear.

They stumbled down the pitch hallway and toward the door, the entire building shuddering around them. The barest light from the doorway stood out like a beacon in the total blackness of the schoolhouse, nothing could be discerned from the shadows surrounding them.

Harry allowed his wand to slip free, desperately trying to find the ceiling while he was running blind.

When they took a corner, Harry couldn’t see the giant shelves trembling against the walls, but he could hear the creaking clearly as they dislodged and came crashing down. He didn't have time to react when the heavy shelf connected with his skull, he wasn't even sure who else had been caught under them. 

All he could do was tumble down with it, wand dropping from his limp grasp to the sound of splintering wood and screaming.

* * *

 

The first sensation Harry felt was a gentle rocking motion, something warm holding him close.

The second was overwhelming nausea and in the next moment, Harry found himself on his knees, vomiting violently on to the floor. 

He blinked, head swimming and body swaying weakly.

There was noise all around him, but Harry couldn't piece any of it together, too busy puking his guts out. Breakfast and lunch blew out of him, and Harry wasn't lucid enough to even be embarrassed.

Once he finished, he slumped thoughtlessly against the warmth keeping him steady, the noises continued rising and falling in sharp intervals. His nausea had abated somewhat, and he was positive there wasn't much left to hurl anyway.

He was being moved, much slower this time, Harry twisted his head as best he could to look around with watery vision.

Harry was in a lot next to a van, it was dark out, only illuminated by a distant streetlight and the moon. There were people all around him, someone was carrying him. The noise was coming from their faces....they were saying things to him in a fast gibberish.

" _ Wha _ ..." He moaned, his head giving a savage throb. What was going on? Had there been an attack?

The person carrying him put him inside the van, propping him against the side so he didn't fall right back out. The words were getting more agitated.

The fog cleared a little and Harry realized he was just sitting limply and staring at nothing, which wasn’t right. And with that little clarity came another jab inside his skull.

" _ Ow _ ..." He hissed, bringing clumsy hands to cradle his aching head. They came away sticky.

" _ -ry...Harry, can you hear me? Harry. Harry, look up _ ." Someone said, startlingly close.

Harry raised his head to find a blond teenager on the other side of the van, eyes searching him for something. What had this person said? Harry couldn't remember anymore. He knew him though.

" _ John. _ " He croaked, he felt like he was swimming through molasses, but he could recognize the priest speaking to him.

"Is he snapping out of it?" The man who carried him asked, Harry gingerly moved his head to study the other's features. He knew these people.

That was Monk, and the woman a few feet away was Matsuzaki. Weren't there more of them before?

" _ Harry, are you listening to me? What hurts? _ " John asked, pulling him back.

Harry was listening. How could he not when the other was so close? A lot of things hurt, though. His face and arms ached from hitting the floor probably. His stomach was still roiling and scorching a strip down his throat that tasted nasty. His back hurt too, in an absent bruising sort of way. But what took the cake was definitely his head, thrumming like someone had trapped a centaur in it.

" _ Harry? _ "

" _ My head hurts. _ " Harry frowned, " _ I think I hit it on...something. _ " Something heavy and huge and loud. Everything had been loud a second ago, right? Crashing and screaming like werewolves on a hunt.

"What's he saying?" Takigawa demanded, but Harry didn't know why. Was he slurring?

"He hit his head but he doesn't remember how, he could have a concussion." John reported quickly.

“Of course he has a concussion. That shelf was three times bigger than him.” Matsuzaki snapped, but before Harry could decipher her meaning, John plowed forward.

" _ You were hit by the shelf, remember? When we were running out of the building. _ "

A shelf, that sounded right. What had he been running from, though? And why had he stopped? 

An attacker. The building. They had been running from the old school house. It was trying to hurt them, blowing lights and knocking things over, so everyone had run away. No fortified tents or Hogwarts to hide in. Harry made to clench his wand tight only to feel his nails dig into the skin of his palm, it wasn’t in his hand anymore.

" _ W-where’s my wand.  _ " Harry rasped seriously, and John frowned.

“ _ Wand? What wand?” _

Harry matched the expression, he always had his wand close by. John should know that. Why was he confused? Had John been hurt too?

“ _ Were you...hit? _ ” He asked in concern.

John still looked confused, but he answered clearly. " _I'm fine, just bruised. I caught the shelf on my shoulder to keep it from landing on you_ _after you fell._ " He looked unharmed. No blood or pain that Harry could see with half-blurred vision. He nodded and turned to Takigawa.

" _ What about you? _ " The man stared silently at him, eyebrows knit together and he didn't look like he was going to respond any time soon. Was he mad? Had Harry puked on him? 

" _ He can't understand you, Harry. You're speaking English. _ " John chimed helpfully. Harry nodded, he knew he was. That's the language Harry spoke, after all.

" _ Takigawa only speaks Japanese. _ " John elucidated, smile fading. Harry blinked, that was right too. And Harry knew that, so why had he been speaking English?

" _ You-  _ are you...Hurt?" He formed the words slowly, his tongue felt heavy when he was speaking Japanese now and the vocabulary came even slower than before.

"I'm fine, nothing hit me. Not so sure about you, though, or Mai." Takigawa's eyes flicked to something behind Harry, so Harry shifted to peer deeper into the van. Stretched out behind him was that girl who knocked over the camera and started working. Taniyama. She appeared uninjured, but she wasn't moving.

Harry lurched, heart thudding. A killing curse? " _ Why-  _ What's… _ -wrong-  _ not right...with her?"

"The shelf fell on her. She only has a little bump, though. So we're hoping it's more exhaustion than anything keeping her down." Matsuzaki said, skirting something on the ground with a disgusted look on her face before heading to Takigawa.

"Should I call the ambulance?"

A shelf fell, no spells. Right. That’s because the building attacked and buildings couldn’t shoot killing curses. 

"Nothing, um, hit you too,  _ right? _ " Harry asked, his vision was still fuzzy so he had to wait until she was closer to check her for injuries too.

"I was behind you, remember? The first shelf fell on Mai, and the second smacked you into the ground before John caught it and Monk dragged it off." She spoke too quickly, it was frustrating. Harry's head felt like mush, but he knew what she said wasn't challenging to understand.

"I think it's just a concussion, maybe some stitches. Someone will have to drive him to a doctor, but I don't think he needs an ambulance." Matsuzaki told Takigawa rather randomly, had Harry missed a question?

"Unfortunately I didn't drive here." John said, and Harry tried to join in.

"It's okay, I didn't either." John smiled at him again, but the other two just watched him seriously. Harry was in full agreement about sending him to a doctor, feeling so lost in a simple conversation was frustrating and embarrassing. What had he done wrong?

"I did." Matsuzaki sighed, slanting a half-hearted glare Harry's way. "You better not throw up in my car."

"I won't." He promised, he didn't have anything to throw up anyway.

"We'll keep an eye on Mai until she wakes up then. Please call if anything happens." John said politely, and Matsuzaki nodded.

Without warning, Takigawa bent over and scooped Harry into his arms. For all that Harry wanted to squirm out of his grasp and walk for himself, the sudden movement left him unsteady and spinning. If the monk let go, Harry would crash into the ground again.

"Sorry." He mumbled reluctantly, deliberately watching the car across the street to keep focused and not get sick.

"Don't worry about it, man. What are coworkers for if not carrying concussed fellow coworkers across streets?"

"Co...working?" Harry guessed cautiously, and Matsuzaki snickered into her sleeve.

“Where’s my  _ wand? _ ” He asked Monk as they hopped off the curb. John had been confused, but maybe someone had picked it up.

“Can’t speak English, I didn’t take your bag if that’s what you’re asking.” Right. Monk speaks Japanese so Harry has to speak Japanese.

“My...branch? The...in my hand…” What was  _ wand? _ Harry couldn’t remember.

They reached Matsuzaki’s car and Harry was dropped in the backseat and swiftly buckled in.

“You mean this thing?” She suddenly piped from the front seat, and Harry’s holly wand was shoved in his face.

“What the heck is that thing?” Monk asked, nonplussed, but Harry didn’t pay him any mind. He snatched the wand up happily and gave the priestess a hazy smile in thanks.

“I found it next to Mai when we dragged her out, it looked important.” She shrugged and Harry didn’t hear what the monk’s response was. He tucked the wand back up his sleeve and slumped against the seat. His head felt gross and wet and throbbed painfully, and fatigue was rapidly overtaking his nausea.

Between blinks the car door was closed and Matsuzaki and Harry were alone in the car. He watched confusedly at the buildings and houses jumping in and out of existence. The last time he remembered opening his eyes, they were in the waiting room of the clinic Harry had helped Lin to a few days ago. 

Harry could only assume he was looked over, bandaged, and discharged, because he wound up back in his motel room. He did faintly recall Matsuzaki gently steering him with a strong hand and a calm voice until he was settled in his bed. She was much nicer then. Like Madame Pomfrey, if she split her compassion and her iciness into completely separate personas.

Harry might have told her just that, he couldn’t really remember.

* * *

 

“... _ Ron.. _ ”

“ _...Ron. _ ”

“ _ Ron, shut up. _ ” Harry moaned into his pillow, the snoring was unbearably loud and he was exhausted.

Ron breathing racked up another notch, it was even noisier than usual. Was he sick? 

“ _ Ron! _ ” Harry huffed grouchily, why hadn’t the prat thrown up a silencing charm if he was stuffed up? It honestly sounded like he was sleeping in the same bed-

Harry’s eyes shot open, a starburst headache lighting up his temples.

John was slumped in a chair beside Harry’s bed, drool dried on his chin and snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

Harry stared, at a complete loss. Why did he have a priest in his motel room?

“... _ John? _ ” He poked him cautiously, wincing at the pull on his back and arms. He felt sore and tender, and his head hadn’t stopped throbbing.

John didn’t stir, snoring steadily.

A shrill alarm suddenly burst from John’s pants, sending Harry back against the bed in fright and John bolt upright in his chair, wide awake.

He immediately dug out a cell phone and fumbled with it until the alarm cut short, bathing the room in blessed silence. The noise had only aggravated Harry’s headache, had he bought painkillers recently? The digging pressure in his temple wouldn’t make a fun companion to a convenience store.

“What  _ was  _ that?”

“Oh, you’re awake.” John looked up and found Harry gingerly lifting himself back upright in the bed. “How are you feeling? Do you know where you are?”

“Um, should I not?” Harry took a quick glance around but they were still in his motel room. 

“Well you’ve been confused and Matsuzaki said some things might need repeating. Do you remember what happened?” John leaned forward sternly, the drool still stuck to his chin and hair a tangle of blond locks. He made for a bizarre picture.

Harry was distracted from the surrealism when he realized that he actually wasn’t sure what had happened prior to waking up, his recollection of the night surprisingly blurry. They had gone back to the schoolhouse, Monk’s exorcism failed, and they had come to some sort of agreement. Then the building went dark and screaming and crashing came from every corner and Harry was running blind for the door-...

“Is everyone okay?” Harry demanded, searching John for injuries. He couldn’t recall ambulances, but he could hardly remember anything after the last attack.

“You ask that almost every time.” John snickered, but sobered when Harry glared impatiently.

“Mai took a knock to the head but she felt good enough to go to school today. You’ve got a concussion, but it was mild enough that you were allowed to leave the clinic with supervision. No serious injuries, thank the Lord.”

A concussion. Harry had only experienced that once before when he was very young and hadn’t managed to dodge Petunia’s pan. He hadn’t had any memory problems though. He had just been unsteady and confused for a few days, the Dursleys had assumed he was acting dumber than usual. Harry only knew it was a concussion because of a bragging classmate who had fallen out of a tree a few months later.

“Harry? Are you still confused? Do you feel sick?” Harry had paused too long, he shook himself from old memories and peered bemusedly at the priest.

“Supervision, huh? Have you been babysitting me all night long?”

John shook his head. “Ayako was here for a long time, we had to wake you up every three hours. I stayed with Mai until she was able to go home then came here to let Ayako rest.”

Harry caught a picture of clarity from last night. He had been swaying in Shibuya’s van and Taniyama had been passed out behind him. None of them had the keys to the van, Shibuya had only left it unlocked. If Mai remained there, no one could’ve driven to a safer spot.

“You stayed on site by yourself?” He asked incredulously. After an attack of that scale just hours before, that was an idiotically stupid move.

“Monk was with me! He dropped me off here and then took Mai home. We didn’t know where she lived.” He defended

“Why didn’t you just bring her here? You could’ve both been killed!” All three of them were completely at the spirit’s mercy for god knows how long in the middle of the night, without even a wizard to shield them from physical attacks. It was enough to make Harry’s skin crawl, how close he had come to losing three people in one night.

John opened his mouth and closed it several times before melting sheepishly. “...I didn’t really think about it.” He admitted to the floor.

Harry glared, his fear melting into anger. “Well, next time you should think about it! What if you had been attacked with just Monk to help? All of you- including Taniyama- could’ve been killed. Until we know what it is, you can’t underestimate the danger!  _ Constant Vigilance! _ ”

John kept his eyes on the carpet, hunched over in his seat guiltily. He looked like a shamed puppy. Harry took in a quelling breath, he needed to cool down.

“It’s not my place to yell at you,” He murmured reluctantly. “And I shouldn’t blame you for the mistake. Monk could’ve moved her too. And nothing happened, so maybe it does stop immediately outside the schoolhouse.”

“No, you’re right. That was a big risk on our part and it could’ve ended badly.” John grimaced. “I must look so careless to you, I never meant to endanger Mai.”

“Not at all.” Harry protested. “Everyone let’s their guard down by mistake, I have no right to talk to you about any of this honestly, I  _ fell asleep  _ in the schoolhouse on my first day. It’s just so strong now, I freaked out.”

John let out a startled laugh, finally lifting his head to stare at Harry incredulously. “You fell  _ asleep _ ? With all the creaking and activity and reports?”

“I didn’t mean to! But yeah, ended up staying the whole night.”

John snorted, looking torn between amusement and anxiety.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Harry threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. A glance at the clock told him it was mid-morning.

John hastily stood up with him, the pinch between his eyes. “Careful! You shouldn’t move too much. If you need anything, I’ll get it for you.”

Harry carefully stretched, wincing as he felt out every formidable pain in his body. He was tender in general, probably from crashing into the floor. He felt a little unsteady and clumsy, like he had taken a polyjuice potion instead of a blow. His head hurt in tempo with his heartbeat and searing fire licked up his leg and buried itself deep in his hip. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” Harry ducked out of the priest’s way and toddled into the bathroom with the grace of an inferi, every inch of him unwilling to walk. 

Harry stared dejectedly at himself in the mirror. It was times like these that had him completely agreeing with his coworkers’ opinions. He looked beaten and useless, the burden Monk feared would slow them down. All pallid skin and tired eyes.

After tidying himself up as best he could, running a hand through his wild hair, Harry dressed in a clean pair of sweats and dragged himself out of his room. 

Each step felt a bit like lightning, shocks of pain striking through him sudden and fierce. He had clearly run far too much yesterday, the joint was inflamed. 

“Ayako found some aspirin in your cabinets.” John greeted him from behind the counter, already opening the bottle.

“I’ll have to thank her later.” Harry sighed, pouring a glass of water before gratefully swallowing the offered medication. “She was really on top of this.”

“She said she was a nurse last night, so she’s probably handled conditions like yours frequently in the past.” John made to steer him to a heavily pillowed recliner in the connected living room but Harry dodged to open the freezer.

“My hip is a little sore.” He excused, pulling out the ice pack and finally making his way to sit down. He’s lucky this motel had one already, he couldn’t just pull his own pack out from his satchel, charmed for a perpetual chill.

Harry glanced around the room as he pressed the ice against his leg, ignoring the initial pain as he digs it into the muscle. “Where’s my bag?”

“Oh,” John pinked before retreating to dig through his fridge. “I’m sorry. It was forgotten at the schoolhouse with all the...excitement.”

Harry sagged into his chair. He dearly hoped it hadn’t been damaged, he trusted it with so many of his possessions. It would take a lot to break through the enchantments, but he didn’t know nearly enough about the spirit to alleviate his concerns. At least he hadn’t left his wand in the bag-

Harry ran a hand over his pockets, but he already knew the wand wasn’t there. Had they been in his old clothes? He would’ve noticed when he folded and placed them in the hamper. A chill of true fear crawled up his spine. Had he left it at the schoolhouse?

“What hurts?” John demanded, getting a good look at his face when he came up with eggs from the fridge.

Harry balled his hands into fists, he felt absolutely naked without his wand. He didn’t have it on his person often, but it had been years since it wasn’t a step away at most. Anything could happen right at that moment and he would be powerless. A remnant Death Eater,supporter could burst through the door, a dementor could creep in his window, even a muggle could burn the motel down and he would have no way of protecting either himself or John.

“Harry?”

“M-my-” Harry swallowed, he couldn’t say wand. “Did you see a...stick at the schoolhouse before you left? It would look different, long and thin with a polished handle?”

Like a ray of hope, John gave a happy grin and ducked out of the kitchen. He returned in a handful of moments with Harry’s precious wand in hand.  

“Is this what you’re talking about? Ayako said it was yours. You left it in the bathroom a couple of hours ago.”

Harry nodded eagerly, shaking off the renewed jabs of his headache in favor of grabbing the wand from John’s hands and tucking it safely in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Thank you! I thought I lost it.”

John laughed and trot back into the kitchen, looking pleased with himself. “ _ No worries, mate.  _ I’m glad I could help.” He put a pan on the stove and began frying the eggs. “What is that stick for anyway? I’ve never seen a runemaster use something like that before.”

Harry froze. He’d screwed up. What could he say? He’d never had to explain it before. Harry wracked his brains for a good lie. 

“Um, it’s just a holly branch. I got it when I was a kid, it’s sort of like my good luck charm.”

“It must have a lot of sentimental value for you” John hummed interestedly.

“Yeah, I guess. It was one of the first gifts I ever got.” Harry ran a hand over his pocket, but his mind was on Hedwig.

He missed her fiercely, a bitter twist that left him with little room in his lungs for breath. His first true gift, his solitary companion during those long Dursley summers. And it was all his fault she was gone.

John threw a pensive look over his shoulder, but turned his attention back on the pan before speaking. “I see. Then it is very important indeed.”

The rest of the morning fell into companionable silence, interrupted only when John presented a delicious spread of eggs and toast for the both of them. 

He must’ve finally caught a glimpse of his wild cowlicks, however, because after penning his cell number onto a napkin he  ducked out to clean himself up at his own hotel room. 

Of course, he had made sure to mother Harry within an inch of his life before leaving. With all curtains closed tight against the sun and a TV remote in hand to entertain himself. A cold glass of orange juice at been placed beside him with the bottle of aspirin, and a low bench from the kitchen counter had been pushed against Harry’s chair until it could be used as an ottoman for his aching joints.

Harry would’ve been embarrassed over how helpful John’s doting actually was, when every part of him felt simultaneously beaten and incredibly heavy, but he hadn’t even managed to keep his eyes open five minutes after John’s departure.

With barely the awareness to move his plate to the table, Harry’s head tipped forward, his eyes slipped shut, and he let the fatigue drag him down into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CASE 1

 

_ Riiiiiiiing! _

_ Riiiiiiing! _

_ Riiiii-! _

_ “ _ I’m up! I’m up! How do you turn this off? _ ” _

_ Beep! _

_ A rustle of fabric right by his head. _

_ “ _ Harry... Hey, Harry… _ ” _

_ Weight dipping the mattress. _

_ “ _ Come on, it’s time to get up. _ ” _

_ Harry was unwillingly yanked from his state of semi-consciousness by a hand on his shoulder and an Australian accent in his ear. He peeled his eyes open unhappily, trying to focus on the half-lit blurry figure sitting beside his bed.  _

_ “ _ ...John _?” _

_ “ _ Yes, it’s me. Come on, it’s been three hours. You need to stay awake for ten minutes. _ ” _

_ Harry carefully levered himself upright, his whole body was riddled with hurts and he had an awful taste in his mouth. What had happened? Had they run into Snatchers again? _

_ “ _ My turn to keep watch, then? You should relight the fire and get some rest. _ ” _

_ He couldn’t see the campfire light dancing across the side of the tent, and it could get so bitterly cold when the warming charms wore off in the middle of the night.  _

_ “ _ Um, no Harry. No watch and no fire. Do you remember where we are? _ ” _

_ Not really, they moved around so much it was hard to keep track. Their focus was more on closer-to-a-Hocrux and farther-from-Voldemort then any actual landmarks and territories. _

_ John must’ve read his dubious expression. “ _ You’re in your motel room. In Japan. _ ”  _

_ “ _ Well, wherever we are, there should still be a watch. They track us too quickly. _ ” Harry winced as his headache started to really pound in his ears. The Death Eaters had done a number on him, thank Merlin John looked unharmed, just concerned. _

_ “ _ Are you okay? I could get you a cold compress. You just took a painkiller so I can’t give you another just yet. _ ” _

_ “ _ No, I’m fine. _ ” Harry assured, pulling a hand away from his temple. “ _ Sorry, I might be out of comission for a few days. Can you and Hermione handle getting food on your own? _ ”  _ _   
_ _ It was tough, thankless work to catch even a squirrel when werewolves were tramping up the same hills and clawing down trees on their hunts. If they couldn’t do it, then Harry would pitch in and forage for anything edible, injuries be damned.  _

_“_ What? Who’s Hermione? Harry, you’re on a case in Japan. Remember? There’s food in your fridge. _”_ _John sounded worried now._

_ “‘ _ Who’s Hermione?’ She’s my friend! Remember? Didn’t you two… _ ” They hadn’t met. Harry didn’t remember them ever meeting. Harry only befriended the priest recently and Hermione was in England. Which wasn’t where he was, he was in Japan. On a case. _

_ Wait. _

_ Like a rushing wave, memories from that night crashed over him, flooding his head with new understanding and focus. It felt a bit like not knowing he was in the dark until the cover was lifted. _

_ “ _ There was another attack at the schoolhouse! _ ” He exclaimed, looking on John for confirmation. The stark relief was enough encouragement for him.  _

_ It was still hazy, Harry didn’t remember much before the lights went out and the boards began groaning. But he knew it had been dangerous. _

_ “ _ Was anyone hurt _?” _

* * *

 

The motel room's phone blaring jangle jolted Harry from his vivid dream. The phone beside his cold plate was positioned unfortunately close to his ears, and Harry was quick to pop another aspirin before answering. 

"Hello?"

_ "Hello, Potter. I trust you're feeling better today?" _ It was Shibuya.

"Er, yeah, thanks. Um, how did you get this number?" Harry had never mentioned where he was staying before last night, when he was pretty sure he'd given Matsuzaki vague directions to his room.

_ "I got into contact with Miss Matsuzaki. I understand that you are unable to travel at the moment, so I would like to visit you in one hour." _

"For what?" He asked curiously.

_ "I am conducting an experiment that requires the cooperation of all those who have been involved in the case thus far. It will only take a few minutes." _

An experiment? So he had another theory?

"Sure, I guess. As long as it doesn't require a whole lot of brainpower or coordination, I'm game." He chuckled weakly.

_ "It's a very simple procedure. See you then.” _

The line went dead and Harry went to work. 

He found it frustratingly difficult to clean up after his and John’s breakfast when it felt like he was in the body of a newborn colt and a mass of bruises at the same time. It took a good deal of time and energy to remain standing while he was washing his fork alone. By the time he was satisfied with these small chores, if extremely light-headed and a little woozy, the doorbell was chiming.

"Almost there!" He huffed, and stumbled to unbolt the door and let Shibuya step inside.

The ghost hunter took one look at him and already seemed unimpressed. 

"Please sit down." There was no room for argument in his voice.

Harry did just that, trying not to appear eager for a chair. While he certainly didn't appreciate being ordered around in his room, his hip wasn’t forgiving even a single shift in weight.

He settled into the chair with a quiet sigh, propping his leg on the bench John set close by and replacing the ice pack. The cruel throbbing eased under the chill and Harry let some tension leak out of his frame before turning back to his guest.

Shibuya shut the door behind him and carried in the oddest looking contraption. It was fit for Dumbledore's desk, angular and ambiguous. Harry stared in fascination. Was this another high-tech thing he'd missed at Hogwarts?

Shibuya placed it on the coffee table in front of Harry, the odd circular head facing him.

The teenager pressed a switch and the head began to pulse with a soft red light.

"Focus on the light, but if it becomes too painful please let me know." Shibuya instructed, and sat opposite Harry and the lamp-thing.

Harry did as he was told. The light did sting at it's brightest, but faded quickly enough that it wasn't too distracting.

After a few moments, Shibuya spoke in a low tone. "Control your breathing so that it is in sync with the light."

Was this like meditation? Harry slowed his breathing, keeping track of the light's pulsing rhythm

"Very slowly relax your shoulders, concentrate on your breathing."

The wooziness had increased in Harry, he blinked dizzily at the pulsing red light. He felt heavier now. Should he alert Shibuya? Harry wasn't sure what he wanted from this experiment. Would Shibuya tell him if he wasn't supposed to get drowsy?

"Now count your breaths."

_ "Tonight you will go to sleep, and use your magic for nothing." _

_ "Tomorrow we will all meet in the laboratory." _

Harry was distantly aware of the red light being shut off. Without the direction, it was confusing to breathe off-beat.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and suddenly Harry was awake. Shibuya stood over him, contraption in hand, making no attempt to hide his scrutiny.

"That's all I needed. Thank you for your time." Shibuya finally said. "I can see myself out, please get some rest."

And before Harry could ask exactly what happened, the ghost hunter was out the door, shutting it closed behind him.

* * *

 

The next day Harry felt better. His legs weren't so unreliable and his eyes weren't so sensitive to light that he needed complete darkness to continue living.

That's not to say he was in top form, he was still under strict instructions to take it easy and fully intended to do just that. He would watch his coworkers and intervene if his magic might finally become useful. If there was another attack like last night Harry wasn’t going to hesitate a second time. Cover or no cover, no one was getting hurt again.

"Oh hey, you made it! How are you feeling, man?" Monk grinned crookedly when Harry found them inside the school building. Everyone was there, packed tight in the hallway. Matsuzaki, Monk, Hara, John, Taniyama, Shibuya, Kuroda, and even Shibuya's friend Lin.

"Yeah, I’m better. Thanks." Harry smiled uncomfortably, he was still mortified over what little he remembered from the other day. He had passed out, thrown up, and been carried all within a handful of hours. He would be surprised if any of them took him seriously by the end of the case, he’d performed so atrociously.

“Harry!” Kuroda cried, shoving out of the hallway to run at him full-speed. Harry dodged the aggressive embrace, cringing at the very thought of a tight hug right then when even a quick jolt to the left sent needles through his joints.

Thankfully Kuroda calmed once she stood before him, eyes shiny behind her glasses.

“I was so worried about you after that vicious attack! They said it was only a concussion, but I wasn’t sure. Are you really okay? Are you feeling better? That spirit was so powerful I couldn’t stay next to the schoolhouse, it’s presence was suffocating me. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you home!” She spoke rapidly enough that Harry could only understand after years of conversations with Hermione.

“I’m perfectly fine.” He reassured, giving her a quick pat on the shoulder that had her face lighting scarlet. “And I’m glad you went home, you have some good instincts. It was much too dangerous to stay near the schoolhouse.” He caught John and Monk ducking their heads a little, so John must’ve delivered Harry’s lecture to the other man earlier. Good, hopefully they’ll both be more careful in the future.

Stepping past the girl, he caught Monk, Matsuzaki, and John's attention and bowed shallowly. He didn't want to get light-headed too. "I just wanted to thank you all very much for your help last night, I really appreciate your kindness. If you need my help at any time after this is over, please feel free to ask.” He was certain it wouldn’t be for his runes. But he was game to record paranormal activity reports or even help spring cleaning if that would repay them.

Monk laughed it off while Matsuzaki gave a false sniff. "Well you didn't ruin my car so I suppose it wasn't much trouble."

John grinned in a self-satisfied manner. "It was my pleasure after all the care you've shown me."

Harry checked him over, hadn't John caught the shelf across his shoulder? But he couldn't detect any bandages under the priest's shirt, so he supposed he'd only walked away with a colorful set of bruises.

He looked to Taniyama next, and she appeared just as perky and excitable as she always did. Harry couldn't say he was worried when he saw her unconscious form, he hadn't been capable of focusing long enough after finding out she was still alive. But he was glad to see she was alright. "I'm happy to see you've recovered as well, Taniyama." He greeted warmly.

"Yeah, just a knock on the head." She winced, "I hope you're feeling better."

Harry bobbed his head and moved on to see what everyone was in the hallway for. One of the rooms had been boarded up with plywood and paper, and it looked like John and Taniyama had scribbled their names across it over and over again to make for odd looking grafitti.

As per usual when it came to Shibuya's experiments and methods, Harry didn't have a clue to what it meant.

"So what's the plan for today, Naru?" Monk asked Shibuya with a mocking grin. There was that nickname again, was it some Japanese thing Harry had missed?

"Yes, and let's hope for your sake you don't embarrass yourself yet again." Matsuzaki simpered.

Shibuya completely ignored them, glancing to Taniyama and John. "Now, would you two please confirm that the paper you signed yesterday hasn't been tampered with."

They approached the boards and paper and studied their respective signatures for a moment before agreeing that it was untouched. It must've been important, because Lin lifted a camera to record their compliance.

"Alright." Shibuya picked up a crowbar and, without any warning, jammed it under the plyboards. Harry jumped, almost crashing into Monk before he caught himself in a throbbing heap.

The wood was pried off piece by piece until only a deathly silent classroom remained. Both Taniyama and John peered in cautiously, clearly looking for something in the inscrutable shadows. Harry watched with wide eyes as they stiffened and gasped simultaneously, what was inside the dark room?

The others eagerly followed Shibuya inside in a shuffling line, and at the very back, Harry finally got to see what all the fuss was about.

"The chair, it moved!" John told them, looking at the chalk circle drawn in the middle of the floor. Standing in front of the empty circle was a camera and across the room, sitting under the window was a battered, upturned chair.

Had it originally been inside the circle?

"So what exactly does this prove?" Matsuzaki asked cluelessly, and Monk joined in with his own confusion.

"Would you care to explain?"

Shibuya opened a laptop on the podium and checked something before a tension Harry hadn't known was there drained from his frame in one easy breath.

He pulled away from the screen to watch them calmly. "I'd like to thank you all for your cooperation, I'll be finishing this investigation today." He announced.

"So you figured out what it was?" Harry asked, trying not to get too excited again. Shibuya had been wrong before, but it was easy to get swept away in his thorough and methodical nature.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Shibuya confirmed.

"The ground sinking?" Taniyama prodded, and the ghost hunter answered immediately, like he'd practiced his lecture a dozen times over.

"Yes, all of the issues that the principal originally brought to my attention can be explained through ground subsidence."

"Yeah? Then what about the disturbances we saw the day before yesterday?" Monk challenged.

"Now  _ those  _ were from a poltergeist." Shibuya acknowledged cooly, only riling the monk up.

"You're not making any sen-"

"What else can he do? We all know that he can't exorcise it, right?" Matsuzaki interrupted.

"Why can't it be both?" Harry pointed out. He tried not to sound too irritated, he did owe them a lot, but he couldn't stand how they ganged up on Shibuya.

"There's no need for exorcism in this circumstance." Shibuya looked to his laptop, "Watch this and you'll see."

Everyone gathered around the screen and Shibuya played what looked like green-tinted footage of what the camera had recorded of the chair. It sat in the circle, untouched and unassuming.

Harry watched and waited, something had happened to knock it so far away. Suddenly, the chair began to tremble and shake. It slid out of the circle and continued to creak and move until flipping on its side and coming to a halt. It went quiet.

"What was that?" Taniyama whimpered into Monk’s sweater.

"It's obviously a poltergeist." He huffed.

"Humans are to blame for over half of reported poltergeists every year," Shibuya stated.

"You mean like a prank? But no one could've gotten in there." Taniyama pointed out, even as she sounded calmer.

"True, we did seal off every entrance. I even had John and Mai sign their names on each panel so we could tell if someone had tampered with one." Shibuya murmured.

"If someone had attempted to replace any broken pieces, there's little chance they could've replicated my signature." John agreed.

"This only proves I've been right all along!" Kuroda barked loudly, and it was testament to how much shouting had been going on over the past few days that she was easily ignored.

"I placed a hypnotic suggestion into everyone's mind yesterday that this chair would move before we met here this evening, excluding Potter." Shibuya continued. "So far this method has never failed me, and I have no reason to believe it will today."

"What did you do to me, then?" Harry asked curiously. Why hadn't he been given the same suggestion?

"There were extenuating circumstances. I simply suggested that you wouldn't do anything to hinder the experiment." Which meant it was probably related to Harry being a wizard, so he would have to ask again more privately.

"Yeah but that still doesn't change the fact that no one got in here." Taniyama refuted.

"Poltergeists are a form of latent mental powers, often by people who have an unconscious craving for attention. When stress is introduced, a self-defense type mechanism reacts in the brain. Hypnotic suggestions can become a reality in these types of situation." Shibuya explained.

Harry deliberately kept looking at Shibuya, but he could feel everyone's attention shift to Kuroda. There was no getting around her aggressive need for recognition and overwhelming eagerness to believe in possessions and hauntings.

"So you're saying  _ I'm  _ responsible for this?" She croaked, and Harry could see her wilting under the others' combined stares from the corner of his eye.

"From the moment I met you, you were trying to impress me." Shibuya focused on Kuroda, watching her with sharp eyes. "For example, you claimed to see spirits that still remained her from the war. However, there is no evidence of this area being bombed during the war, or of this building being used as a hospital. In fact, there was never a hospital built on this land, period. That means that you were either mistaken or intentionally lying to me and the others."

"I'm not a liar." Kuroda bit automatically, but even then she sounded much less convinced.

"At first I thought you were just pretending to be spiritually sensitive," Shibuya plowed on. "so when things started happening that could only be explained as a poltergeist I became quite perplexed. My scientific experiments, Miss Hara's readings, and Potter's detection glyph all came up clean."

Shibuya glanced to Hara and Harry in turn, and Harry tried not to look too proud that Shibuya had taken his runes seriously enough to factor into his theory.

"We determined there were no spirits. That means the haunting was of human origin. Poltergeists activity is often caused by children in their early teens. There are numerous cases involving teenaged girls in particular. It's a form of psychokinesis that can occur during periods of great stress. Ever since middle school you were known amongst your peers for being sensitive to spirits, but once it was proven by me that the strange phenomena was in fact due to ground subsidence you naturally lost whatever confidence or faith you held in your own psychic abilities."

"This caused you immense anxiety because it went against your own beliefs, and although you could see the merits of my evidence you still wanted to believe that spirits were to blame. You told yourself there was no other way. You simply couldn't face the truth."

Kuroda's lip began quivering helplessly, and her glasses started to fog up. By the end of Shibuya's lecture, Kuroda buried her face into her hands to hide her tears.

Harry shuffled uncomfortably. She definitely needed the reality check, but he didn't like so many people being witness to it. Judgemental crowds had followed Harry wherever he went during Hogwarts, and he didn't want her to feel the same muddled sense of helplessness he had.

"You had no idea you did it, wow." Monk murmured sympathetically, and Harry sighed. Maybe not so judgemental then.

"I firmly believe that you're a latent psychic, Kuroda." Shibuya added.

"And that means?" Taniyama prompted again.

"A latent psychic is someone who has supernatural abilities. She's not aware of it, but she has some level of PK. I'll just say this for your sake, Mai. PK is short for psychokinesis."

"Thank you, I'm so grateful." Taniyama drawled sarcastically, but Shibuya didn't miss a beat.

"She believed that there had to be spirits present in the old school house in order to attract the attention of those around her. In order to be who she was."

There was a pause afterward, Kuroda was determinedly looking down at the ground to avoid eye contact.

"You know, I think I can understand." Taniyama announced. "It's natural, really. Think about it. Everyone wants to believe their special in some way, a desire to stand out from the crowd and be unique as a person. It could be a talent, or just the hope that you're recognized as an honest and kind human being. In your case, Kuroda, I would imagine it's your ability to communicate with spirits."

Harry blinked, he felt a little bad for it but he hadn't expected deep introspection to come from such a bubbly little school girl. But she was right, he supposed. While Kuroda was overzealous, it was easy to understand where she was coming from. It wasn't like he didn't get touchy when people questioned all the qualities he was proud of, like his talent for runology.

His accidental magic had even surged up when adults had told him cruel lies or belittled him in public, such as blowing up Marge Dursley or turning his teacher's wig blue. He hoped he never became passionate enough to deny truths like this, but he could connect to the base desire to prove people wrong.

"Does that explanation satisfy everyone?" Shibuya asked dryly, and though Harry was pretty sure it had been a joke, Matsuzaki stepped up to plate.

"Not quite. According to that account her elevated stress came  _ after  _ you gave us your little theory on ground subsidence or whatever it was. What about me getting stuck in that room or the video being erased? Explain that!"

"The reason you became trapped in that room is simple." Shibuya hummed, pulling a rusty nail from his pocket and showing it to everyone. "There was a nail sticking out from the floor."

"That's it?" She gasped.

"I had noticed it that day but I never mentioned it because I didn't feel it was necessary at the time." Shibuya shrugged.

Matsuzaki's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then someone did that on purpose?" She didn't waste any time skewering Kuroda will a hard glare. "Was it  _ you _ ?"

Harry tried to look non-threatening even as he shuffled in between the two, pulling Kuroda away from the hot-headed woman. He doubted she would actually hurt Kuroda, Matsuzaki had a heart underneath her sneer, but he was still a little on edge. Kuroda looked so lost and shaken and Harry didn't want to overwhelm her any further.

Matsuzaki caught his intention anyways and pulled up short, Harry sent her an apologetic look.

"You were just trying to get back a little at Miss Matsuzaki, after all she had verbally attacked you outside just moments before." Shibuya soothed. Kuroda clutched at Harry’s sleeve but said nothing.

"What about the video?" Matsuzaki switched, stepping back from Harry and Kuroda.

"The videotape was intentionally erased. When you became trapped we all left the base to come to your aid, there was plenty of time for someone to slip in here and erase the tape without ever being seen." Shibuya said.

Harry held in his sigh, Kuroda was astonishingly childish. That incident had terrified Matsuzaki and put everyone at risk rushing through the unstable schoolhouse to rescue her.

Kuroda must've sensed the impatience in the room because she clenched Harry's sleeve a little tighter in her fist.

Then Harry remembered something. "Wait, I checked my glyph when that happened. There were only three women in the schoolhouse when Matsuzaki was trapped, Matsuzaki herself, Taniyama and Hara."

"That really wasn't so confusing to figure out. You sensed three women, one being someone you hadn't seen yet. That was Kuroda, but because Miss Hara introduced herself first you assumed it was her. In reality, Kuroda arrived first and hid from Miss Hara before revealing her own presence later on." He answered patiently. It made sense.

Shibuya had revealed a weakness in his detection glyph. Next time he would make one that could better distinguish spiritual signatures.

"This is ridiculous." Matsuzaki growled under her breath.

"What are we supposed to do now? The principal hired all of us to get this place ready so they could continue construction." Monk asked, sounding a little lost himself. He had also been entirely convinced that the problem was supernatural.

"I plan to report the following story to the principal;" Shibuya told them. "the old school house was haunted by those who died here during the war. They've all been exorcised and the structure is now clean of any paranormal activity."

He slanted a tiny smile behind Harry. "That sound okay, Kuroda?"

Harry felt the girl nod silently against his shirt, the hold on his sleeve slipping loose.

"That's very kind of you, Naru." Hara shuffled close. "But will you really lie to the principal? He deserves to know the real story." Naru again, Harry really had missed something. Would it be embarrassing if he asked Shibuya about it later? Would it sound like he was jealous he didn't get to call him that?

"Kuroda's doing an excellent job suppressing her feelings now, I don't think it's necessary to embarrass her any further."

That's right, Kuroda was finally accepting the truth with grace. She was childish, but she was also learning. This was probably a great lesson in maturity and humility for her. 

Ron once noted, in a rare bout of introspection, that it odd how easily Harry forgave spoiled children after being raised with the Dursleys. But it was those exact levels of intolerance that gave him his own patience. He had yet to meet a child as cruel as Dudley had been or as malicious as Malfoy, and yet both had managed to earn his forgiveness, or at least his indifference, by adulthood. It was hard to begrudge typical entitlement in children after seeing how far they could rise from those spiteful beginnings. He carefully left out that it was why he could forgive Ron too.

"Oh, I had no idea you were so sensitive. Do you have a girlfriend?" Matsuzaki purred, and Harry snapped back to find her pressed up against Shibuya flirtatiously. Harry wasn't even sure the ghost hunter was eighteen yet, should he intervene?

"I'm not sure I fully understand your question." Shibuya said bluntly, looking much calmer than Harry would ever be in the same situation.

"I'm saying I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, even though you are quite young." The shrine maiden grinned coyly.

"Although I do appreciate the offer, I must decline. I'm too used to looking at myself in the mirror." Shibuya gave another miniscule smile, though it had much more snarky humor in it.

That sounded like someone Taniyama would say to him, and her loud guffaws made it clear who he was quoting.

Matsuzaki spun away, red-faced, "Let's get serious and decide who's going to take credit for this job!"

"Everyone contributed equally, are we all okay with that?" Shibuya suggested.

Harry had no problems with it, he had helped in a small way. And he was glad to walk away with another successful case to add to his Asian reputation. It wasn't like their pay had been hinged on their results, anyway, Shibuya wouldn't be stiffed for his generosity.

"And Mai-"

"I already know, boss!" Taniyama blurted happily, so Shibuya turned to Lin.

"Lin, let's start breaking camp."

* * *

 

Harry blinked away the tears that pricked at his eyes once he stepped into the sunlight. It still burned, and it felt like his painkillers were wearing off. His headache was a warning drum in his head, growing louder by the minute.

At least he found his bag again, only a few rooms down and completely untouched. He couldn’t wait to go to sleep with a charmed ice pack on his leg, and didn’t that just make him feel ancient.

"Um, Harry?" Kuroda finished bowing to Taniyama and hopped over to him.

"Hey Kuroda. Are you going to school now?" He hummed, rubbing at his temple.

"Y-yeah, in a minute. You can c-call me Naoko, you know." She stammered to her shoes.

Harry smiled. He doubted he would ever see the girl again, but it was sweet that she considered him a friend. "Naoko, then."

Her face went scarlet and she took a few steadying breaths. It was a little funny how shy she was when they weren't talking about spirits, like she saved all her temper and conviction for those few moments.

"U-um, okay- Harry. What school do you go to?"

"I'm a runemaster full time, I graduated when I was eighteen." If he counted studying for his license, he had technically dropped out of Hogwarts at sixteen.

"Oh! Y-you've graduated..." The red on Kuroda's face was spilling onto her neck now. "How long will you stay in Japan, then?"

"I travel all over the world, but I like coming here. So after I've finished a few cases, I'll probably return in a year or two for the next run."

This seemed to bolster her, and she nodded with that steely conviction once more. "Okay then, please be sure to come back, H-Harry."

Was she concerned Harry would abandon her? It would be inappropriate to visit her or maintain contact without her parents' permission, but he supposed promising wouldn't be too bad. It was vague enough that he could pop in on his way to a case without fanfare.

"I will, Naoko."

She remained perfectly motionless, eyes wide behind her glasses. 

Harry shifted uncomfortably, she wasn’t even blinking. “Um, Naoko?” 

Was she even breathing? Harry was growing alarmed. He leaned in closer, searching for what had frozen her so completely. “Are yo- _ mmph _ !”

Before Harry could do little else than rip himself away, the girl had already turned tail and began to sprint away at full speed, her face a glowing fuchsia in the sunlight.

“W-wha-wha…” Harry scrubbed furiously at his lips, the faint taste of a fruity lip balm in his mouth. “What the  _ hell _ …”

Breathless guffaws announced John’s approach, he was wrapped around his stomach like it hurt to laugh so hard. Harry could only gaze helplessly at him, not a clue in the world as to what just happened.

“I- _ ha! _ I knew that Kuroda had a crush- _ hehehe! _ But I  _ definitely _ underestimated just how daring she is.” He gasped out, shamelessly laughing at Harry’s expression.

“A- a crush?” Harry managed, his head still buzzing emptily. When had she gotten a crush? He’d hardly done anything flirtatious, in fact they’d spent most of their time together in silence. And more importantly, she was a little girl for Merlin’s sake!

John adopted an entirely false appearance of sympathy and shrugged. “That poor girl has been smitten with you since you rescued me during my exorcism, at the very least. She certainly didn’t offer to walk  _ me _ home afterward.”

“B-but...I didn’t rescue you, remember? And... _ what?  _ That can’t be right.”

“No it’s true.” Matsuzaki sighed, bursting into the conversation with a pointed look of irritability on her face. “You should’ve heard how many demands she had for us before you got here today. You’d have thought we operated on you in the back of that van.”

“B-b-but  _ why _ ?” What on earth had Harry done for a girl hell-bent on being haunted to become interested in him?

“Well there’s no accounting for taste.” Matsuzaki sneered, but with a warning look from John she added, “Although I suppose you’re not unpleasant to look at. And the attention you gave her could be...considered charming to some.”

Whatever showed on Harry’s burning face, it was enough for John to give one last snort.

“ _ Pfft! _ Okay, okay.” He visibly tried to school himself. “I didn’t come over here to just to laugh.”  _ At you _ , went unsaid. "I really enjoyed working with you on this case. Can I have your number so I can contact you for future work?" 

To Harry’s irritation, he couldn’t muster up enough resentment to even attempt to make the blond squirm. He jot down his phone number readily and made a mental note to keep the number next time his phone had to be replaced. He would love to work another case with the priest in the near future.

John took the note gratefully and instead of pulling away, captured Harry’s hands together for a fond shake. “I hope to see you soon.” 

Harry bobbed his head a little too quickly, just as eager, and that sent the priest bounding up the street himself, heading off to another case a few cities over.

"If you need a ride back to your motel you'll have to wait until we're done packing." Shibuya spoke up, passing by with an armful of monitors.

Harry hadn't asked for a ride, and though he foresaw a long nap in his future, he could've walked back home himself. But he caught the invitation and smiled warmly at the ghost hunter's back. 

He couldn’t allow the Shibuya’s surly nature to cloud just how supportive he had been of Harry’s opinion, even going so far as to hold it as partial evidence in his theories. He appreciated the respect and, in turn, greatly admired the teenager’s deductive capabilities. 

Harry lowered himself onto the curb, using the van as a shield against the biting rays of sunlight and watched Lin and Shibuya put the last of the camera stands and wires into the back.

“You should know something.” Harry gave a guilty start, he hadn’t realized Matsuzaki had followed him after John left.

“What?” He asked.

She eyed him seriously. “You should know that you were chatty with that concussion last night.” 

Before Harry could register more than trepidation, she continued. “It was mostly in English so I have no idea what you were saying. But John took over for the last stretch and he heard a lot.”

Wait, that dream Harry had earlier...It had been so jumbled and confusing, had that been a memory? He said a lot of things that hadn’t made sense, but what would John make of them?

“I don’t think he’s the type of guy to go spreading things that aren’t his business. But you should still probably know.” Matsuzaki finished flippantly.

“Thank you for telling me.” He murmured, thoughts racing. With any luck John would swipe it all under the rug as feverish rambling, he certainly hadn’t given away any misgivings that day. But the next time Harry saw him, he might need to address some things. Hopefully all Harry had spoken about was his time in the woods and not something along the lines of killing Voldemort or something more incriminating.

“Eh, don’t mention it.” She turned on an expensive heel and trot for her car without another word. 

Monk had left without Harry catching him, so after Matsuzaki pulled away it was only Harry and the SPR.

Once they were finished, Harry waited for them to climb in first before clambering into the back seat. Shibuya already knew where he lived so he didn't bother giving instructions.

"Oh hey, we've never been formally introduced. My name is Harry Potter." He angled himself toward Lin. They had met under awkward circumstances, so he wanted to clear the air. That and he wasn’t quite sure if Lin was a nickname and didn’t dare address him out loud yet.

"I know, you told me." Lin stated bluntly, but knowing Shibuya made it easier to recover.

"But you haven’t told me yours" Harry remained unmoved by the impatient glower sent his way.

"It's Lin Koujo." He sighed like it was a chore. Either the leg was still bothering him or the man always acted this way, Harry didn't foresee a lot of conversation happening between them.

"It's nice to meet you." Harry said anyway, and let the van drift into silence.

It was a weird way to end a weird case, so Harry found it more fitting than uncomfortable.

“Oh yeah! Why did you give me a different subliminal message from the others anyway, Shibuya?” Harry recalled absently a few minutes into the drive.

“Accidental magic is very similar to latent psychokinesis, though it obviously manifests in a much wider spectrum than PK. If I gave you the same suggestion I gave Kuroda, your own magic might have reacted the same way and ruined the experiment.” Shibuya explained, he would’ve made a good professor. Though it was long-winded, his responses were always informative and educational.

“I see, you really know a lot about magic.” He hummed, impressed.

“I know a lot about many things.” Came his not-so-humble reply, but it felt more humorous than anything else.

Shibuya dropped him off and Harry spent two more days resting before he flew to a neighboring city to ward a bookshop.

He found he was glad to have taken the principal’s case, and for all its difficulties, he didn't regret the time he spent on it. Hopefully he would find one just as colorful and challenging in the near future.

 

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SIDE FILE 1

**Because this arc is going to be an original case, I'm going to put OC character profiles here after this chapter so you guys don't get confused. I'm not flooding this story with OCs, but even I had to keep checking on my notes to keep the characters straight.**

**Also, on a side note- I made a writing blog on tumblr. It's my first one so I'm not really sure how to use it yet. But I'm planning on including excerpts from stories and answering any questions from that blog. The link is signaturedish dot tumblr dot com Or just look up Signature Dish on tumblr if you're interested. Right now it's more of a notebook.**

**Okay, thanks for your time and on to the show!**

* * *

"Harry! I'm so glad you could make it on short notice." John grinned from ear to ear, looking more like a child playing dress-up than a priest in proper cloth.

Harry hopped up the last steps of an impressively large porch to meet the other at the door. The entrance was huge and rather run down, grand hand-carved double doors covered in a peeling old finish thrown open against a contrasting downtown setting.

"How could I say no to such an interesting case?" Harry laughed, ducking past John to step into the rickety manor. A young couple stood stiffly at the foot of a winding staircase, they must be the clients.

"Oh excuse me," John rushed forward to introduce them. "This is the colleague I recommended, Runemaster Harry Potter. Harry, this Misao Hiruma and Jou Suguro, the owners."

"Pleased to meet you." Harry sketched a quick bow before leaning back to look over his employers.

Suguro's hands were wrapped in white bandages with shiny pink scars climbing up his wrists, his dark eyes were rimmed with fatigue that played badly on his pale complexion. Hiruma didn't look as worn out as her partner, but when she spoke, it was with a noticeable rasp that didn't match her girlish features at all.

"Likewise, thank you for coming here on such short notice. I'm confident that between Father Brown and yourself, things might finally go back to normal."

"Well, that is certainly our goal." Harry smiled.  
Suguro broke from his place beside Hiruma to stride to a door on the left of the stairs. He stopped and looked back impatiently. "We'll give you a tour of the place now."

"Oh yes!" Hiruma burst in, giving a forceful bow. "And welcome to Eastern Manor Bed and Breakfast."

John and Harry exchanged glances but followed the owners deeper into the manor.

The tour was quick and spartan, just enough that he wouldn't get lost immediately in the large house. An open sitting room was right past the stairs, decorated in creaky old-fashioned furniture. It had been converged into a waiting room before the desk slotted against the far wall for administration. Beside it was a dining room fitted with a long table that connected to a rather humble looking kitchen.

Moving back toward the staircase was a claustrophobic little bathroom that was meant to be shared with two bedrooms through a narrow hallway. Up on the second floor were a few more bedrooms, ranging in size and mothballs, and one last bathroom.

"There's also a basement, but we haven't decided what we want to refurbish it for yet." Hiruma added as she led them back downstairs.

"May we be allowed to go there during our investigation?" John was quick to ask.

"It's not locked, just filled with that old lady's garbage." Suguro shrugged, and they came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs.

"Old lady? Do you mean you have things from the previous owner?" Harry piped.

"Yeah, she didn't have anyone to will her things to, so they just threw it in with the house. Most of this is her furniture." Hiruma waved toward a particularly faded and dusty armchair.

Harry hummed, eyeing a shelf full of decomposing books. If their problems ended up being from a truly supernatural source, it was probably going to be from some old relic stuffed somewhere in this giant house. Hopefully, his detection glyphs would be more conclusive during this case or he and John might be looking for weeks.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask some questions about the activity you've experienced so far now." John looked at the owners expectantly, politely ignoring the scowl spreading across Suguro's face.

"Fine, whatever gets this over with faster." Suguro brought them back to the sitting area in front of their desk and sat across from Harry and John, Hiruma at his side.

Harry dug through his satchel until he found his notebook. Flipping past his previous work, he found a blank page and waited.

"So, the whole story?" Hiruma hedged, and John nodded patiently.

"Well, it didn't start immediately when we bought this manor. It was on sale and cheap since the old woman who lived here before us didn't maintain anything."  
"I'll say." Suguro snorted. "Practically blew what we saved up on refurbishing alone."

Harry frowned, not immediately? What could've agitated a spirit  _after_  the previous owner died and the house was remodeled?

"So how long had your bed and breakfast been running before phenomenon began to occur?" John asked, leaving the note taking to Harry in favor of looking approachable and sympathetic, though Harry doubted he did so purposefully.

"After two weeks of business." Suguro answered, "That's when the first fire happened."

"Where was it? Any strange color or behavior?" Harry asked, looking up.

"Only that it was in the hallway of the second floor. We thought one of our guests did it and sent them packing." Hiruma shrugged.

"What about the next time? Was it in the hallway again?"

"Oh no, in fact it was in a completely different area. About a week afterward, a fire started on the wall by the first-floor bathroom. But it was in the middle of the day and both our guests had chosen upstairs rooms so we couldn't find a culprit."

Harry jot that down quickly, random fires could definitely be from a poltergeist. "Do these fires happen when a certain amount of people are accepted? Or perhaps noisy people?"

"No." Suguro sighed, Hiruma rubbed his shoulder. "The next time it happened we had one guest and he only slept the night. I was in the basement clearing space to walk." He didn't look at his hands, but they were tense in his lap. "I was bent down to pick a box up when it burst into flame right in my face. I barely pulled myself up to avoid that, but...I- my hands have second-degree burns."

"My word, I hope your wounds aren't serious." John hissed sympathetically, and Suguro shrugged down at his bandages.

"Right now the doctors are optimistic that the...damage is only superficial." He gave a dark laugh. "Whatever that means."

There was a heavy pause after that, broken only by the traffic outside the manor.

"After that, we decided to get in contact with someone who could help us, and Suguro had a friend from church recommend Father Brown." Hiruma's coarse voice was low enough to be considered a whisper if it weren't so quiet already. "There was one more fire after we let a family stay with us. It was in the middle of the night and we're not sure where it originated from. Only that it got into the vents and was pouring smoke into our rooms. Jou was still in the hospital, so it took both me and the family to get the fire under control. We're lucky we didn't…" She swallowed harshly. "And we've been closed since then, fixing the fire damage."

Harry reviewed his notes, mulling over the story. It still wasn't a sure thing that this was an actual spirit and not an arsonist or a bid for insurance fraud, but he would consider everything.

"Has there been any activity since you closed your bed and breakfast?"

"None. But it also hasn't happened for weeks at a time when we do have guests, so…" She smiled apologetically.

"Was there any similarity between the guests that stayed when there were fires?" John asked, peeking over Harry's shoulder to read what he'd jot down.

"Nothing I could see. The first one we kicked out was a bit eccentric, but the others were normal." Suguro looked to Hiruma who nodded agreeably.

"Do you mind if I look over your records later to learn more about those certain people?" Harry looked over to the desk. With any luck they kept a record book, as he still wasn't completely proficient on a computer.

"Already a step ahead, I asked them to provide us with a marked copy for our investigation." John assured, and with a quick tap of his phone, Harry had the records he needed, complete with helpful highlighter.

"Thanks! I'll look over it later." He pocketed his phone. "Now do you know anything about the previous owners?"

Suguro gave a huff and nudged at Hiruma playfully. "She certainly does, running a bed and breakfast by herself must've been boring because by the time I got out of the hospital she was practically an expert on the woman."

Harry leaned forward excitedly and looked to the co-owner expectantly. She was a little flushed but began easily enough. "Okay, so this house was constructed in the late eighteen-hundreds for the Hata family, though I'm not sure why they chose a Victorian style. Either way, the old woman who lived here before us was a cousin from a branch family of the Hatas, since the main heiress died unmarried. Her name was Mayako Izuhara and she lived here for almost sixty years. She lost her parents at a young age, married briefly and was widowed before they could have children, and might've been sick, she never looks healthy in her photos. She was clearly a hoarder and kept all her relatives' things. The neighbors also said she was a very angry person and once screamed at them from her window for playing music."

Harry noted the name, but not much else. Most of what Hiruma said wasn't very significant proof for a haunting. "And the neighbors never reported any fires before she died?"

"There were never any fires before we had our third guest." Suguro interrupted, sounding as though he'd repeated this many times. "And Izuhara didn't even die here, she died in the hospital of natural causes."

"So you don't believe Izuhara is haunting you?" Harry asked curiously.

He shook his head. "There's definitely something here. But I was the one who bought this place, haggled with the realtor, hired the clean-up crew, and most of the initial work to get this place to code and there's no proof Izuhara was anything more than a sickly old hermit. You should've seen how many soap operas I had to give away, she definitely wasn't making voodoo dolls in her spare time."

"What else could it be?" Hiruma demanded and he growled irritably.

"I don't have a clue, for all I know the house is lighting itself on fire, but it doesn't make any sense that Izuhara is doing this either."

"Well," John interrupted before they began to fight. "Thank you very much for answering our questions so patiently. If it's alright with you, I'd like to exorcise the house of all evil spirits to see if that has any effect."

"Of course, Father Brown." Suguro mumbled, rising to his feet and jerking his head to the hallway beside the stairs. "Those two bedrooms are for you and your friend, stay as long as you need to fix this for good. I'll be busy for the rest of the day but don't hesitate to ask for anything." He left without another word.

"If it interferes with your business, I can easily rent a motel room close by." Harry felt he should protest, but Hiruma smiled sadly.

"No, you're welcome to stay. I can't in good conscious let guests in after what happened last time, so it's good that some of our rooms get some use in the meantime. We won't schedule your meals, the kitchen is always open, so please feel at home while you work."  
She bowed and followed after Suguro, neither seemed at all interested in watching John perform an exorcism.

Harry noted as much to the priest.

"It's likely that they're scared of what might happen." John explained, ducking in his assigned room to place his bags before coming out with his bible and holy water. "With Suguro's faith in the Catholic church and Hiruma's fear of the fires, it can't be easy to see an actual exorcism take place in their home."

Harry didn't leave his satchel in his room, not yet comfortable enough to put them down in a house prone to fires.

He followed John back into the front room, where the priest paused for a drawn out moment in which it seemed he was thinking very deeply. Finally, he gave a sigh and smiled. "I was going to suggest you leave the building for a moment while I exorcise it, but I doubt you'd listen."  
Harry nodded seriously, only a curve on his lip to soften him. "No way I'm leaving you here after last time." John had proven quite quickly that he couldn't be trusted with his well being while working, far too determined to drive away spirits to fear for his own safety.

John chuckled wryly, having probably guessed what Harry was thinking. "Well in that case, you should go get a bucket of water or something. If a spirit sets me on fire I'm not sure my flask of holy water would be very useful."

Happy with the compromise, Harry set out to do just that.

* * *

The exorcism passed uneventfully, leaving behind only the faintest smell of incense in the empty manor.

With the rest of the afternoon to wait for any telling activity, both Harry and John ducked into John's room to go over the guests who stayed in the bed and breakfast, both those who were present during a fire and those who weren't.

John was using his laptop to access an online database for more information while Harry examined any details or requests listed in their descriptions in hopes of finding a unifying factor.

Suguro's first impression of this compilation seemed spot on, though. No matter how Harry looked at it, the guests all appeared completely average and varying in age and appearance. No strong leaning in any characteristic

"There are a lot of foreigners listed, perhaps the spirit dislikes outsiders?" John murmured thoughtfully, scrolling over an elderly Russian man.

"Only a couple of them were present during a fire, though. And the last family to stay had been completely Japanese." Harry pointed out, scrolling to another page.

"Maybe a focus on men? Whenever there's a fire a male guest was present."

"Hmm yes, but Suguro didn't experience any harassment when he was alone." John sighed, and they both went back to frowning at their lists.

"If it's not dependent on the visitor, perhaps it's just based on a certain time? Like a moon phase?" Harry was just guessing now, flipping open his notebook to stare at that instead of his phone.

"That might be something, I'll set up a calendar for the specific dates." The priest said, and Harry loaned him his notebook to set it up while he conjured up more wild theories.

"Or maybe the guests that were present during a fire caused some accidental damage? Like scuffing a door?"

"Suguro  _was_  burned while moving things around in the basement." John mumbled, frowning down at his rough calendar. "But that wouldn't explain why it didn't happen during most of the refurbishing."

"It might've taken a while for a curse to settle or something." He pointed out, most took at least a couple days to create and many could take a week or more to start affecting their victims.

"But who would curse them? The former owner was a hermit without any family for years, and she died after weeks in the hospital so I doubt she could curse it herself."

Harry slumped against the mattress, abandoning his notebook.

"Hmm…"  
He perked, twisting to look back at John. He too had discarded the notebook and was now scowling heavily at his computer again.

"What is it?"

"Well," John hummed, leaning closer. "This is a Japanese database so I don't have information on the foreigners, but I noticed that there is never a fire when all of the guests are high school graduates."

It was  _something_. Harry sat up and leaned over John's shoulder to inspect the records. "So it might have something to do with high school dropouts? I've never heard of a spirit that cared about that sort of thing before."

"Neither have I, but it's all I can find right now."

It was too strange, Harry couldn't come up with a single reason for a spirit targeting high school dropouts in an old Japanese manor. But it was also their only lead. He sighed dejectedly and pulled away from John.

"So you wouldn't happen to be a high school dropout to test this theory, would you?"

"Oh no, one of the requirements to become a priest of the Catholic church is a bachelor's degree."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "So you have a bachelor's degree at nineteen? That's incredible."

The priest flushed proudly. "Yeah, I skipped a few grades in high school and didn't have much of a social life in college so...I wound up becoming a priest far earlier than even I expected."

First Shibuya and now John, he was bumping into a lot of prodigies lately. "What did you major in?"

"Religion, actually." He tugged on a blond curl bashfully. "Heh, it's a little embarrassing to say out loud. What about you? Were you a history major?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. Wouldn't it be funny to tell him that he graduated with the equivalent of a masters in runology? "Nope. I didn't go to college. Just did some certification to build a resume for my work."

"Oh, I see. I suppose it was a smart move considering how successful you are now. Does that mean you left high school at sixteen and took up an apprenticeship, or something?" John asked curiously.

British muggle schooling was only compulsory until sixteen, then two more years of some sort of education, academic or vocational depending on the student, was required. He'd found this out from Hermione, who had gotten a laugh out of how their grueling year-long adventure had ended up mirroring that sort of school system rather closely-at eighteen now selected careers based on their experiences beyond their sixth year at Hogwarts.

"Yeah, something like that." Harry said agreeably. At any rate, he wasn't considered a dropout by the ministry.

They drifted into silence after that, so Harry plucked his notebook back and looked over the discarded calendar. The moon phases were marked in the corner, but it was clear just from looking at the dates of the fires that it was all totally random. He flipped the page back to his case notes and wrote down their discovery of the guest's educations before letting it drop back to the bed. He almost hoped the case was a bust if only to avoid making sense of the bizarre clues they'd managed to glean.

"Well," John snapped his laptop shut and climbed off the bed. "I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall and started. They'd spent the entire afternoon in John's room, the lamplight must've hidden how dark it had gotten. "There goes day one." He murmured, gathering his satchel together.

"It would seem so." John sighed. "I'm going to find something for dinner, come with me?"

"Sure, I'll make us something." Harry volunteered, slinging the satchel over his shoulder and heading for the kitchen.

"I certainly won't stop you." John chirped happily and followed after him.

* * *

"Hmm, that smells delicious!"

Harry looked up from the pan, twisting to catch Hiruma wander into the kitchen nose first. He quickly added two more eggs to the pan and gave it a stir before smiling back at his hostess. "Would you like some? I've made a little extra."

She stiffened self-consciously, clearly not comfortable asking for food from her guests. Harry slyly flipped his sizzling bacon, allowing the smell to speak for him. She didn't stand a chance, and caved immediately.

"Well, so long as I'm not putting you out."

"Nonsense," John cried around a mouthful of eggs, Harry doubt he'd noticed Hiruma before right then, so absorbed in his food he hadn't even made it out to the dining table. "Harry's giving out huge portions, I'll be amazed if there isn't anything to put away afterward."

Harry gave a wince, looking down at the plate that barely contained the massive omelet he had been stacking high in bacon. He had gotten lost in the routine and had automatically made his servings Dursley-sized, far past what was normal for a Japanese dinner. He would have to restock their fridge as an apology or something, how wasteful.

Hiruma thanked him for her heavy plate and dug in with careful chopsticks. As soon as the omelet touched her lips, her eyes lit up. "Harry!" She shouted, almost losing the eggs still in her mouth. She chewed furiously for a few seconds before continuing. "Harry, this is delicious!"

"Truly." John agreed, chomping on his last strip of bacon. "I had no idea you could cook. Or put so many herbs in eggs."

Harry shrugged, keeping his back to them both in order to hide his pink cheeks. It wasn't often he was complimented for his cooking skills, after all. Though he didn't hold much fondness for cooking, it was still nice to get compliments on something he'd worked hard at almost his entire life.

He put his own omelet and side of bacon on a third plate and moved to join Hiruma and John at the counter. John was already almost done, which really was a feat considering his size. "It's been far too long since the last time I had a western meal." He sighed blissfully, drawing a quirk to Harry's mouth. So the Australian was feeling a bit homesick, hopefully the inevitable stomach ache wouldn't put a damper on the nostalgia.

"Jou makes something similar for our guests." Hiruma noted, chewing contemplatively. "This bed and breakfast is meant to appeal to western foreigners visiting the city, so most of our menu is meant to be familiar to them."  
"So Suguro is a chef?" Harry asked, interested.

"He's taken a few lessons to get certified but he's a better handyman. We were hoping to hire an assistant once we had a steady income." Hiruma whole body drooped sadly, her dark eyes gaining new shadows.

Harry didn't know what to say, the couple were clearly on the brink of financial failure no matter if it was intentional arson or a legitimate ghost. So instead of using words to comfort, he plucked his last piece of bacon off his plate and slid it onto hers.

She gave a surprised snort and looked up to grin at him thankfully.

"Sorry, what I meant to ask was if you could give him this recipe? It might help keep his mind off of things."

Harry was already nodding, it was just a few spices dropped in with his eggs, and they already had the ingredients. "I'll write it down sometime." He promised, and received another surprised smile.

"Thank you very much. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm sure Jou could spare a few minutes for a meal." She gave a quick bow and snatched a second pair of chopsticks before leaving the kitchen, her plate carefully halved.

Harry watched her go. If the case ended up being simple insurance fraud he had pegged her as the instigator upon introduction, seeing as how Suguro probably hadn't willingly burned himself to that degree. But now he wasn't so sure, she truly seemed like an honest young woman and he didn't sense an ounce of ill will within her. Of course, that didn't mean he would debunk that possibility just yet, but he hoped his intuition was right.

He turned away to eat another forkful of omelet and caught John grinning at him from the corner of his eye. He paused.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." John sang innocently. "I'm just not sure Jou would appreciate you stealing his girlfriend, especially so soon after breaking poor Kuroda's heart."

"Oh shove it!" Harry snapped, face burning. He had been doing his level best to erase those few seconds from his memory ever since. He still had a hard time being in close proximity with anyone wearing the same flavoured chapstick.

John snorted at whatever expression had landed on Harry's face and moved past him to dump his plate in the sink. Harry didn't hesitate to throw an elbow out before the blond could draw away, catching him in the side.

"Hey, hey! I'm too full for that!" John groaned in protest, rubbing his abdomen wryly.

"Then you shouldn't go picking fights." Harry replied unrepentantly and returned to his dinner.

John shot him a hurt look. "And here I was, trying to clean up for you. Only to be attacked in return." He sniffed, gathering the oregano and thyme to put back into the cabinet.

"You poor thing." Harry snorted, packing away the rest of his omelet in the fridge. He couldn't have eaten the entire thing if he were starving, much less after the brunch he'd had before arriving at the bed and breakfast. He put the pan and fork into the sink to begin washing.

"You've been hiding sarcastic streak." John noted, playfully bumping into him at the sink.

John wasn't the type to roughhouse, and that was clear in how gentle the jostle against him was even when the height difference was so small. Harry had never been tactile, though, and the point of contact shoulder to hip prickled unpleasantly.

John stepped back a bit abruptly, giving Harry room to breathe again. A cloth appeared in the priest's hand, and without further ribbing, he began to dry the dishes.

Unsure of what had just transpired, Harry went along and began passing him clean dishes to dry. A heat pressed against the side of his head, but every time Harry tried to glance discreetly at John, the other appeared completely involved in his task.

Soon, the rhythm of the familiar task distracted him from the awkward atmosphere, and Harry's shoulders slumped from a defensive height he hadn't noticed before.

They finished fairly quickly after that, and Harry detoured to the sitting room, the strap of his bag clutched tight as he ran through his plans.

He would need detection runes again if it turned out that a haunted item causing the fires knowing which floor it was on would be necessary. So perhaps three separate glyphs for each level of the bed and breakfast. There was a likelihood that an arson was responsible for the fires as well, and as Shibuya had pointed out during his last case, Harry's glyphs only detected vague characteristics and not enough to distinguish individual people. So three high hyper-sensitive detection sets? That sounded...unpleasant to maintain, maybe he could make a better triad for this case in particular.

Perching on a linty armchair, Harry dug out his notebook.

Sowilo would stay, he would need to revelation rune regardless of the focus. After that, maybe Mannaz? It would blunt the spectral detection abilities by a great deal, especially if the source was inhuman, but Harry was sure he would get a much better read on people with a humanity rune. He should probably end the triad with Ansuz, knowledge with a slight lean toward spiritual would help overall.

Harry sketched it all together, appraising the glyph set with a critical eye. Hmm, it wouldn't have much range, the Mannaz rune had no inclination toward seeking or uncovering and it was close to crippling. He would set up a trial run on the bottom floor first to see how effective it was in detecting people. If it wasn't worth the drawbacks, he would try something more elaborate.

Harry slipped off the chair and onto the floor, leaving his notebook on the seat in favor of digging out the appropriate runic tiles.

Sowilo. " _The Sun is ever the hope of seamen_

_When they fare over the fishes' bath,_

_Until the sea-steed_

_Brings them to land._ "

Mannaz. " _A mirthful Man is to his kinsmen dear;_

_Yet each one must from the others turn,_

_Because Odin desires by his decree_

_To deliver that frail flesh to earth._ "

And then the Ansuz. " _The Mouth is the source of every speech,_

_The mainstay of wisdom,_

_And solace of sages,_

_And the happiness and hope of every eorl._ "

His magic was carefully fed to the triad, his breath catching as the drain took effect. He cut it quickly, watching the runes link together in a successful snap, circling magic in a perpetual loop.

It immediately pinged off- four people, three males, one female. One wizard, one exorcist, two powerless muggles. Two on the first floor, two on another. Four unique signatures, easily distinguishable from each other.

It immediately sought out humans first then, Harry would need to write that down. He dug a little deeper. The wizard signature and the exorcist signature were the strongest, closest to the detection triad. In fact, they seemed almost identical in distance, was the measure off? Unless-

"You could've waited for me to get a bucket."

Harry rolled away, nearly scattering the glyph set in his scramble away from the voice over his shoulder. Breath on his neck, warmth right at his back, dangerous.

He stopped at a crouch, ready to spring behind a loveseat as his eyes connected with John's.

The blond was still bent over from where he had been surveying the runes over Harry, stiff and purse-lipped.

"Oh, John." Harry said breathlessly, trying to give the impression of relaxing even as he was strung tighter. What an embarrassing overreaction, honestly what had he been expecting? A Death Eater to pop out of nowhere right in the middle of activating his detection triad? "Don't sneak up on me like that! I almost elbowed you in the nose." He chided, tacking a wobbly grin to his face as he climbed to his feet. "And now I'm covered in dust, you're lucky I don't have an allergy." He continued, blathering mindlessly as he began brushing himself off, feeling the frantic flutter of his heart gradually slow.

John remained quiet, straightening up with an unnerving grimness about him. He wasn't offended, was he?

"Er, are you okay?" He asked uncertainly. "I didn't catch you with a foot or something, did I?"

Finally, John gave a wan smile, letting out a careful sigh. "No, I'm fine. Are you going to do this on every floor? If so, allow me a moment to get that bucket of water."

He left before Harry could reply, leaving him standing stupidly in the center of the entrance room.

Harry stared after him, befuddled. What was John thinking now?

He hadn't forgotten that John had sat with him during his concussion, and knew a bit about how he'd gotten his hip injury. And now with how over the top he'd just been, was he making the priest uncomfortable? A pain shot through him at the thought, he didn't want to make John regret inviting him onto his case. Especially over suspicion of insanity or something equally ridiculous.

He turned back to his triad, physically tearing away from his increasingly gloomy thoughts. He still hadn't detected anything past the humans in the house.

Harry returned to reading the scans, skipping over the dozens of minuscule details his glyph could uncover about his coworker and hosts, finally coming to the supernatural verdict.

It was weak, his ability to even pick it up was next to null. But a paranormal presence was there.

Human enough to skim across the Mannaz, distorted enough to differentiate from people, and so disfigured that it was near impossible to pinpoint.

Harry peeked around the room, but it had to be on this floor. His glyph as nowhere near strong enough to make it up the stairs or into the basement.

"I've got the water." John announced loudly, trotting back in with the bucket in hand.

Harry hummed in acknowledgment, feeding the glyph a little more magic in hopes of measuring the distance more clearly.

Farther away than John at the doorway, but that was where it became indecipherable.

"What is it? What are you doing?" John asked seriously, looking around as though a ghost might pop out of the walls.

"My detection glyph is picking up a presence, but it's very weak." Harry explained, switching tracks and trying to get a read on the type of spirit instead.

Humanoid, enough for the Mannaz anyway, and weak. "It's too weak to be a poltergeist."

"A presence? You mean there truly is a ghost here?" John sounded very surprised, had he been betting on arson?

"Yes, but I'm honestly not sure it's strong enough to cause fires." He didn't dare feed the set anymore, already a dull ache was creeping into his temple from the sheer amount of detail thrumming into his head, the humanity aspect working overtime with the extra magic.

It was a little weird to know that John was exactly nineteen years, six months, and fifteen days old, nearly eight months older than Harry was.

"Are you saying there's a spirit here  _and_  an arson?" John's eyes were wide.

"I don't know." He snapped, pulling back from his glyph to ease the headache, frustration curling around him instead.

"This triad isn't enough. I'm going to set more up." Harry ran a hand through his hair, tugging at his fringe. Could there be an arson and a ghost targeting the same house by coincidence? It was so outlandish.

He tugged his satchel back on and scooped up his notebook, and with John trailing silently behind him, he descended into the basement.

The narrow stairs leading down were pitch black, only the barest shine of the light from the first floor illuminated the switch at the bottom. Harry pressed a hand against the wall to keep his balance as he slowly made his way down.

Once he clicked on the flight, a cheap hanging bulb flickered on, casting long shadows across the numerous piles of old junk crowding the small space. It was apparent now that the furniture chosen for the bed and breakfast were gathered from the nicest sets, the truly ugly, rotting rest were left here, to stink of mildew alone in the dark.

He kept to the edge of the basement, away from the short and tall stacks of books and dolls and albums littering the floor. When a shadow didn't shift with the bulb, Harry paused. John almost ran into him, hopping away at the last minute and sloshing the water precariously.

"Sorry." Harry mumbled, his attention narrowing on the black mark spread against the wall like a charcoal finger painting. What was is? It didn't seem to be mold, but it definitely wasn't wallpaper either.

"This must be where Jou was injured." John whispered, pointing at a tipped box nearby. It was also blackened, cardboard curling where a flame had licked. Harry winced, it must've been quite the blaze.

"I guess he didn't come back down afterward." Harry noted. Even the smelly clothes from the box were still scattered across the space, Suguro must've just run away to treat his injury and neither hosts went back down to clean up the mess.

A tickle at his elbow made Harry flinch away, but when it morphed into a firm hold on his forearm, it was clearly just John. He settled himself and glanced questioningly at the priest.

John's lips were pursed again, but it was hard to read his eyes in the dim lighting. "We should get away from the walls. Just in case." He cautioned, pulling Harry with him and deeper into the hoard of keepsakes.

It was slow-going finding a spot clear enough for a rune glyph while avoiding any half hidden piles and trash waiting to trip them up.

Harry finally kicked a table out of the way and began writing his triad on his notepaper. He would keep his selected runes in case there really was both a spirit and an arson and wait for any activity in the meantime.

Sowilo, Mannaz, Ansuz.

Harry's breath got a little heavier, the only noise in the deathly quiet basement. Running a sweaty hand across the runes, he let them crackle to life on his magic and strung them together like a live wire.

Once it thrummed successfully, settling across the basement, he placed it on the floor and let it read the room.

Two people, male, wizard and an exorcist. And there were the signatures. He pressed harder.

What on earth...He peered into the alarming amount of deep shadows surrounding him at all sides, searching nervously.

"What is it?" John whispered, following his gaze and clutching his rosary tight.

"There's a spirit here too?" Harry hissed incredulously, stretching to the edge of the triad's detection, but it definitely wasn't strong enough to overlap with the glyph upstairs.

"Two lost souls? Are you certain you're not sensing the same ghost?" John asked incredulously.

Harry shook his head. "It shouldn't be possible. It can't reach upstairs. But...it's human too. They're similar."

He grabbed his bag and headed for the third floor. He supposed that given how much ancient garbage was in the bed and breakfast, it wasn't too outlandish to discover more than one spiritual presence. But surely there couldn't be a third…

"Hey wait!" John called in alarm, and Harry spun around so fast his trainers squealed against the cement. What was wrong? Danger? Attack? Fire?

John was running toward him as fast as he could navigate the mess, and then suddenly he wasn't. John's legs flew out from under him, his bucket crashed to the side, and just as quickly as he'd been running he was falling instead.

Harry dove and caught him across his chest. His knees nearly buckled under John's momentum, and he ended up with the blond slumped across his front and bent at the back from the added weight.

"John, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Was already flying from Harry's mouth as he steadied the priest on his feet, torn between checking for injuries and finding out what had scared him so badly.

John appeared dazed, unruffled saved for the bottoms of his robes. From the knees down they appeared soaking wet, and water was pooling everywhere from the bucket. Thankfully, he recovered under Harry's frantic stare, eyes connecting with Harry's but then skirting away.

"John?" Harry prompted, he was now turning a bright pink under the failing light.

"My apologies for, ah, landing on you." John mumbled stiffly. "I meant to warn you about the puddle and…" He shrugged helplessly.

Harry could now see that nothing had been chasing John, but it took a moment to connect his humiliated misery with the water now soaking several cardboard boxes.

"Did you honestly slip in the very same puddle?" Harry demanded, lip twitching.

John's pink face deepened into red before he charged ahead of Harry. "Let's just get out of here already, it's not safe."

"Standing water is a hazard." Harry agreed cheekily, enjoying the way John hunched in embarrassment. Ah, sweet revenge. "We'll also have to apologize to Himura and Suguro for the water damage, of course once we explain exactly what happened I'm sure-"  
"No worries! I can do it all on my own, it was my accident after all." John cut in, bounding out of the basement and shooting off to the upper level, no doubt hoping to spin the explanation on a slightly less silly note. Harry had no intention of racing him up the stairs and instead watched the hustle in amusement. That should teach John for messing with him.

Harry closed the door to the basement and made his way to a guest room on the second floor. He still had to cast his last rune glyph, clearing the last floor of any haunted items to look for and keeping a record of people's whereabouts during any fires in case it ended up being the work of an arson.

Harry wrote down his triad and activated it quickly, ignoring the sweat beading at his temple and jittery fatigue from his magical exertion.

Once it was complete and humming on its own power, Harry skipped over the initial read, he knew all four of them were upstairs already, and went straight for the spiritual signature.

To his shock, the triad picked up the exact same presence. Humanoid, weak, too far away to tell exactly what room it was in. There were actually three spirits in the bed and breakfast, it was impossible.

Harry glared down at his triad, at this rate he was more inclined to believe he'd messed up his runes than that there were three separate, identical ghosts hanging around the same building, especially when the only known phenomena was fire.

Leaving the rune glyph buzzing independently, Harry jogged down the steps and out the door. Crossing the porch, he placed himself on the sidewalk before the bed and breakfast and began redrawing his runes by the light of a lamp post. It was fairly late now, so it was the perfect time to test his runes without risk of overloading it with people.

He dropped the finished paper on the ground and let it tug at his magic, feeding it until the popping static charge steadied out. He cut the connection and allowed himself to pant lightly, he was already tired from a long day and after this Harry was looking forward to his bed.

He accessed the fourth glyph, enduring the pounding in his head from all four detection glyphs connecting to his mind and sought out a spirit in his final set.

He almost hoped he was wrong, but no matter how much he concentrated or boosted, he didn't detect another spirit.

Which meant there were honestly three spirits waiting to be handled in the place he was spending the night. He tore through the glyph more aggressively than strictly necessary, breaking the magic apart and ignoring the sparking singes where he usually coaxed.

Screwing up his courage, Harry slid his wand up his sleeve and braved the bed and breakfast once more. It was definitely going to be a challenge falling asleep now, no matter how tired he was. At least he and John were roomed close together in case any of these spirits tried to attack.

When he reached his room, he found John standing in the small hallway.

"There you are," A wrinkle smoothed out across his forehead. "I wasn't sure where you went. Did you find anything else."  
Harry nodded seriously, dragging his attention over all three of his glyphs. Though they each had a different number of humans on their floor, the paranormal presence remained constant. "There is a ghost on every level of this house."

John's eyes rounded. "Are you absolutely certain? That wouldn't make sense with that's been witnessed."

Harry shrugged. "All three ghosts are almost too weak to pull it off themselves, I don't know if this debunks an arson just yet. But my glyphs can't overlap and they are all picking something up."

"Three ghosts in one house, goodness me." John murmured. "Perhaps the previous owner- Miss Mayako Izuhara was a spiritual collector? My exorcism might've cleared up the other ghosts."  
"That would make sense considering how much she hoarded." Harry agreed. "If that's the case maybe another exorcism could get rid of the rest."

John nodded thoughtfully. "So we won't rule out arson just yet, but tomorrow we'll begin tracking down these three spirits. How's that?"

"Sounds like a plan." Harry agreed.

The blond smiled cheerfully and stepped out of Harry's way. "Then I'll see you in the morning and we can get started. Good night."

"Good night." Harry echoed, and closed his bedroom door behind him.

He washed and changed and fell into bed with a long exhale. What a strange case. Three faded ghosts and arson targeting high school dropouts, it all seemed so random.

Harry allowed a small smile to grace his face in the dark. This was why he liked taking Japanese cases, they were certainly never boring. Even now he had no idea how this was going to end. He might've been paid a great deal more to remain in Britain and sell rune binds, but it would never have the adventure and flair of a true mystery.

Harry shut his eyes and went to sleep, ready to take on another long day tomorrow.

* * *

"Harry! Harry! Get up!"  
Harry's eyes snapped open and he was already off the bed, wand in hand.

"John what i-" He gave a racking cough, smoke filling his lungs. It wasn't just dark in his room, it was choked with smoke. A fire!  
He ran for the door, there was light pouring from underneath though he couldn't tell if it was from a lamp or flames. He wrapped his hand around the knob only to jerk away with a yelp. It was burning hot to the touch. The fire must be right outside his room.

"Harry there's a fire! Are you okay?" John continued screaming, muffled by the walls.

"I'm fine!" Harry rasped, eyes watering. "But we need to get out of here!"

"How? The windows don't open, I've already tried!" John sounded panicked, and that more than anything sharpened Harry to a single-minded point.

He would not allow his friend to be hurt, never when he had he means to help them. He was a wizard, he could put out a bloody house fire statute be damned.

Gripping his wand so tightly his scars stood starkly from his knuckles, Harry placed his hand on the burning knob and threw the door open, a spell on his lips. He was half-blinded by smoke, a cough ringing around his throat tighter and tighter, but it was child's play to face the baking heat after all he's been through and he didn't hesitate for a second.

" _Augamenti!"_

* * *

**It's a little weird writing Harry and John's interactions without buffers. I keep wanting to include some conflict but John's too sweet to take much personally. At least I've got Harry to muck it up, poor guy's so confused on why John's acting weird. Should someone clue him in?**

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SIDE FILE 1  
> (also, I found out how to copy/paste directly from my posted ff.net chapters, which is why these now include my notes.)

**I promised you an OC lineup and here it is-**

* * *

**Misao Hiruma and Jou Suguro- The hosts of the Eastern Manor Bed and Breakfast.**

**Mayako Izuhara- The late owner of the house who died of natural causes in a hospital. She was from a branch family of the Hata clan.**

**The Hata family- A wealthy family who had the house built for them in the late eighteen hundreds.**

**Yoshimi Hata- Someone apparently from the Hata family.**

* * *

**Not a lot of OCs but I thought a good guide is always nice. I don't expect you to keep track of every single name from a case-by-case formatted story after all.**

* * *

" _Aguamenti!"_

With the door thrown open against the blazing fire, heat rushed into his room. The flames felt like a molten wall of thick smoke and yellow fire, feeding on the fresh oxygen of Harry's room and reaching him in seconds. Completely blind now, he shoved his arm into the hallway and let the spout of water rushing from his wand douse the fire.

Wherever the water touched, the flames hissed and blasted more smoke into the tiny hallway, it was loud and suffocating, tears were pouring from his eyes and soot were clinging to his eyelashes.

For such a cramped space the fire seemed to be everywhere, blazing through wallpaper and scorching floorboards. Harry threw all his magic behind the spell, effectively sending a flood down the hallway.

Harry gave a heaving cough, smothering it into his ashy sweater, the smoke clung to his throat like a charred paste. He blinked harshly, peering into the smoke-choked hallway for anything that remained burning.

It was hard to see, but he caught strands of fire climbing the door frame of John's room and drew his wand across the entire wall, soaking it for good measure.

As the last of the fire died out and the roaring finally diminished in Harry's ears, he could hear John again.

The priest was screaming Harry's name, sounding absolutely frantic. The knocking that Harry originally thought was just the crackling of fire now seemed to from John beating on the wall separating their rooms. In between pleas for Harry to answer him, he was also spouting out lines of prayer, he must be so scared.

Harry gingerly opened John's door, mindful of the baking metal of the knob. He was grateful that the priest possessed the sense not to do as Harry had and open his door. Though it had been hard to keep track, there had been so much fire in front of John's door that if the muggle had allowed it access to the open air of his bedroom, the combustion might've been severe.

John's cries immediately cut short and his blotchy face came into view. "H-Harry?"

Harry pushed his way in, eyeing the hazy room for any fire damage. Just as Harry had been blocked off from wherever the fire started, so had John it seemed. He relaxed and looked his friend over.

"Are you okay?"

John gaped at him. "Am  _I_  okay? I'm not the one who charged into the fire like he was inflammable! What's the matter with you?" John's face was swiftly contorting to anger. "You nearly gave me a heart attack! Dear Lord, do you realize how danger-"

Harry's hand was suddenly seized and brought to John's red face. "You burned yourself! Where else are you hurt?"  
Before Harry could respond, Suguro came rushing in, fire extinguisher brandished at the ready. "Are you guys okay?" He demanded, searching wildly for the fire.

"We smelled smoke and- Holy Hell, what happened in here?" He wandered right back out and stared at the puddles in his hallway. Even the ceiling was dripping.

Harry realized he was still clutching his wand tightly and shoved it into his pocket, the sleeve of his sweater was too scorched to hide it any longer. His mind raced for an excuse for all the water. The bathroom was right across from his room, so maybe he could say it was from the sink? "I just-" He began.  
"Harry was hurt, do you have a first aid kit around here?" John interrupted, still holding Harry's hand carefully between his own.

Suguro blinked stupidly at the hallway a few seconds more before tearing himself away. "Er...Yeah, it's behind the desk. Follow me."

John kept hold of Harry as though he might keel over at any second and marched them both after Suguro, out of the ruined hallway and past the entrance room.

Hiruma was at the door, her own fire extinguisher in one hand and a phone in the other. Her hair was a mess of tangles and her pajamas were ruined in nervous sweat. "Is everyone alright?" She nearly shrieked. "Is the fire put out? Should I call the fire department?"

"It's out, everything's fine." Harry soothed, but her eyes only grew rounder upon getting a good look at him.

"You look like you took a dip in an ashtray! There's never been a fire in a guest room before, are you okay?"

"It wasn't in our rooms, Harry decided to put it out himself." John announced through grit teeth, all but dragging Harry away from Hiruma and into a couch in front of the reception desk.

"Here's the kit. It should be fully stocked." Suguro hefted a surprisingly large box over the desk and John quickly began sorting through the supplies.

"What was I supposed to do? Hope we wouldn't suffocate before someone noticed the fire?" Harry asked defensively, not paying any mind to the guilty hunch in Suguro's shoulders. The hosts should have definitely been more alert, at least installing fire alarms after what had already happened in the house, but he wasn't interested in scolding them right then. He was more concerned with the ice in John's eyes.

"There was a lot we could've done. Together." John hissed, dropping all his selected supplies on the cushion next to Harry and sinking to his knees in front of the wizard to gently roll up his sleeves. Harry glanced down, momentarily distracted by the number of small burns littering his arms. It was a bit nostalgic, it almost looked like when he was first figuring out how to defuse runes without getting hit by sparks.

"We could've stuffed something under our doors, we could've broken the windows and climbed out. We could've taken a moment and discussed our options like mature adults instead of you rushing headlong into the fire  _alone_!" John continued wrathfully, dabbing burn cream onto Harry's hand as though he were made of fine china.

"The faster the fire was put out, the better. And I was trying to keep you from getting hurt." Harry snapped, snagging a packet of burn cream with his uninjured hand and slathering it carelessly across his other arm.

Now that the adrenalin was wearing down, his burns were making themselves known. His arms stung in one continuous wave that was only getting stronger, his throat ached fiercely, and his eyes were still watery with irritation. His hand, however, was by far the worst. He hadn't noticed in his haste to snuff out the fire just how hot the door handle was, but now it was getting hard to keep the pain off his face.

"What you did was monumentally stupid and hypocritical." John wrapped the burned hand slowly, pausing whenever Harry couldn't hold back a wince. "I want us to be a team on this case, did you honestly believe that when I asked you to come I was asking that you protect me from all danger as well?"

"You didn't need to. Friends make sure other friends don't get hurt, isn't that right?"

"Lord Almighty!" John tugged roughly on his own yellow locks, unintentionally gelling a handful straight with the cream still on his hand. "You're missing the point, Harry! Without saying anything you ran straight into a fire when there were plenty of other options. You can't just pull senseless risks like that without warning, you could've been seriously hurt. How can I trust you on this case if you won't work with me in dangerous situations?"

Harry looked up, eyes wide. "I don't-" The cough that had been stewing in his chest finally rose up to clog his throat, and he couldn't hold back his breathless hacking.

Hiruma darted into the room with two glasses of iced tea in hand, and she shoved them into both John and Harry's faces without warning. "This helps a lot with my throat." She explained in a trembling voice, and Harry didn't bother listening to anymore. He sipped the tea gingerly, desperate to soothe the fierce ache of his cough but tempered by the irritation in his throat.

"It's got a bit of honey too, so it should last a little while."

"Thank you." John sighed, rubbing at his own neck. There had been smoke in his room too, but Harry hadn't heard him cough once after leaving the hallway so the effects were probably minimal.

Between swallows Harry's cough slowly diminished, and soon the only noise in the reception room was his own shallow breaths.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" John asked coolly, pressing bandages on the deeper singes on his arms, over the burn salve.

"No." Harry gently shifted out of the priest's grip. "Listen I-"  
"Good." John interrupted, standing up and away from Harry. "Then I'm going back to bed."  
"You're welcome to sleep in a guest room upstairs." Suguro offered, looking at them both. "If you still want to stay, that is. I'll give you a fire extinguisher."

"Thank you. I'll take you up on that." John finally turned back to Harry, watching him with a guarded sort of concern.

"Are you staying as well?"

Harry could only nod.

"Then I'll gather your things and put them in a room upstairs. Get some rest." After those last words, he left without a single glance in Harry's direction.

Harry watched him go, uncertain. He wasn't sorry he'd put out the fire alone, he had magic to protect himself and John didn't. He  _was_ sorry that he hadn't explained what he was doing beforehand, it had all been so fast. He'd left John to wait for Harry's rescue.

But how could Harry apologize if he'd do the same thing over again? He wasn't sure how big the fire was or how much smoke had gotten into the priest's room by that point. Of course he'd rushed ahead, and he'd kept anyone from getting hurt in the process.

"Do you want some painkillers for that hand?" Hiruma murmured nervously.

"If you have some." The burn cream probably had a numbing agent since it wasn't excruciating, but the pain was still climbing.

Looking grateful to distract herself from the blackened hallway, Hirumatrot off for the pills.

* * *

When the pain lessened enough, Harry hefted himself off the couch and followed Hiruma to a room on the second floor. His new room had a fire extinguisher tucked by the door and his satchel placed on the bed.

"John's room is right across from yours and ours is down the hall if anything happens." She explained absently, and Harry pursed his lips. To be placed so close again, did that mean John wasn't angry at him anymore? The priest was naturally kind so it could've just been his morals getting in the way of his fight with Harry.

Harry bid Hiruma goodnight and sat in his bed.

The sky was just beginning to lighten up and Harry wasn't tired. How could he sleep? He wanted to stay in the house since the attacks happened almost always at night, but it was dangerous and it was becoming clear to Harry that actually sleeping was going to be a challenge.

Well, while he was up he might as well check on his glyp-

Right.

"Dammit." Harry sighed into the empty air. He'd forgotten to check if anyone was near when the fire was burning. If it had been an arson, or even one of his hosts, it was too late to know for sure.

Harry ran his magic over the glyphs and sank a little further into the bed when the exact same readings as earlier came to him. Four humans on the second floor. John, Suguro, Hiruma, and himself. Three separate humanoid spirits, each bordering on too weak to even chill the air. Nothing new.

This wasn't going well at all and now he'd even made John angry with him. Harry felt a wave of self-pity crash against him and it was hard not to wallow in it. He turned on his side and looked at his bandaged hand, it still hurt but he didn't mind the distraction.

Why had that fire even started to begin with? Neither John nor Harry were high school dropouts, so they were back to square one on theories. Had the exorcism agitated the three spirits? Perhaps they were humanoid enough to recognize the threat of an exorcist and worked together.

If that was the case, then John could be targeted. He could be in danger even now. The bed and breakfast didn't have smoke alarms so what if a fire started on the other wall away from Harry?

Harry rolled back upright and turned on the lamp by his bed. In the low, warm light he began digging through his satchel.

Once he gathered a wooden tile and silver chain to string it on, he pulled out his wand and got to work making one of his more popular products- runic jewelry.

Runic jewelry was bareboned and limiting, but made up for it in being portable. He could only bind up to three runes onto a tile, layered one on top of the other for a single purpose. Thankfully, the spirits have only revealed one weapon in their arsenal, and the physical damage of fire was right up his alley in terms of actual abilities.

Already lining up his three runes in his head, Harry channeled heat to a burning point in his wand and set to scorching a runic triad into the tile.

The runebind would have to be centered around Isa, the ice rune. Then given a direction with Ihwaz to defend the wearer. For the third rune he might use Uruz for strength, but was that too physical? Algiz would be better, spiritual protection is rather redundant with Ihwaz, but it would still make it more effective toward the supernatural nature of the fire.

The design, layered as it was, became a uniquely complicated series of points and angles. Because it was a combined glyph, he couldn't fuel the runes separately and twine them together. Instead, he shaped it directly with his magic, pushing and prodding until it fell against the design just right and could function reliably.

Harry laid his palm flat against the runebind and took a deep breath. With his exhale, Harry pushing his magic into the design slowly, plucking when it strayed and lining it into the burned frame. When he finished with one portion, he moved to the next laying it on top and untangling wherever it tried merging into a directionless lump. Harry pressed it flat and added the last part, slowing even further in order to stop the magic when it joined and pull it away where it squirmed. The rune was like a conduit, directing the magic. But the Runemaster had to make sure it fit to begin with.

It took ten minutes before he was satisfied, trickling his magic the entire time, hearing the spitting snaps and cracks as it grew powerful and chaotic. Harry patiently steered it back into place each time, until it was sunk deep and twisted just so and glowed like soft starlight. Harry smiled warmly as it all clicked into place and became just what he wanted.

Harry pulled his hand off the runebind and swiped the sweat slicking down his forehead, he would need a long shower after this mess of a night.

Harry admired his work for a moment, a triad with the sole and simple purpose of protecting its wearer against fire. If the spirit remained active he would have to create one for each of his hosts, but for now protecting the exorcist would be his first move.

Now...how should he give it to John? John wasn't the type to reject a gift, but Harry didn't want to misstep and make the priest even angrier at h-

A knock startled Harry from this thoughts. He flicked his wrist without thought, wand sliding into his palm, a spell sizzling at the tip.

"...Harry? Are you still awake?" John's muffled voice carried softly through.

Stupid, Harry chided himself. What did he think was going to need spellfire in a muggle bed and breakfast in the middle of the night?

Harry disarmed the spell and shoved his wand under his pillow before answering. "Yes, I'm up. You can come in."

John shuffled slowly into his room, yellow curls damp against his head and skin scrubbed clean under pristine pajamas. Harry instantly became aware of his own state of disrepair, still sweaty and blackened from the fire.

John frowned faintly at him. "Why haven't you taken a shower yet? Do you need help with your hand?"

Harry ducked sheepishly and fiddled with the runebind. "No, I- er, I just got distracted. I'll take one soon."

"I see." John hummed with an air of anxiety. "Well I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier. I couldn't go to sleep leaving things the way they are."

Harry tensed, there was more to say? He still wasn't sure how he should fix what happened and he definitely wasn't ready for another confrontation.

John padded further into the room, hands clasped together. They both stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment of awkward silence.

Eventually John cleared his throat, cheeks pink, and began. "I wanted to apologize for raising my voice at you downstairs. My temper got the best of me, and though I was angry I shouldn't have spoken to you in that manner. I'm sorry."

Harry blinked owlishly at him, an apology was the very last thing he thought he would receive from his coworker. Then his own face began to burn as protests poured from his mouth, Harry most certainly did not deserve an  _apology_!

"No, no, there's nothing to apologize for! You absolutely have the right to be upset- I would be too! Honestly I thought you were pretty polite all things considering, all you did was call me stupid and you even treated my wounds."

John's frown deepened, quietly watching Harry wave away his remorse. "If...you understand why I'm upset, why are you still fighting me on this?" He asked hesitantly, as if a single misstep could send Harry into a rage.

Harry chewed on his lip and looked away. He didn't want to fight again, but he couldn't figure out a way not to offend John with his answer. "Because I would still do it again. You were in trouble and I wanted to help you, still do. I should've explained what I was doing first, but I'm not sorry I doused the fire."

John's expression blanked. "Please explain what has made you believe that I am less capable than yourself?"

Harry flailed. "It's not that I think you're incapable! It's just that...if I can help you, why wouldn't I?"

"Because we were both in the same situation? You were in just as much danger as I was, we should've helped  _each other_." John took a deep breath afterward, shoulders slumping.

"If you don't think I'm incapable, why are you acting like you were somehow in less danger than I was?"

It was because Harry had magic and John didn't, that was the truth. If Harry had opened his door and the fire blasted into his room like an inferno, he still could've cast protective charms, soaked his room with water, or even apparated to safety. But Harry could hardly say  _that_ , so instead he stared down at his lap.

His eyes were immediately drawn to his runebind, cooling quickly and buzzing just under the surface with runic power. An idea formed in his head, not quite a lie, but not quite a truth either. He snatched it up without a second thought.

"It's because I can protect myself against things like fire." Harry blurted, twisting the amulet in his hands. "I'm not a spiritualist like you, remember? My powers affect physical things. If putting out the fire had really been too dangerous I could still protect myself."

John went quiet then, his own eyes shifting to the right of Harry thoughtfully. "That's right. I forgot you weren't a spiritualist…" He murmured.

Sensing a newfound and wholeheartedly welcome peace finally start its descent between the two of them, Harry seized the opportunity to thrust the runebind out toward John.

"I don't blame you for being angry that I didn't explain myself earlier, but I'd appreciate it if you looked past that and accepted this amulet. It has protections and against fire on it, it should help."

John didn't immediately respond, but his eyes flicked back to Harry and he inhaled deeply. To his relief, John gradually approached the bed and plucked the amulet from his hand. "I- thank you. That was very kind." He smiled, slipping it over his head to sit beside his rosary against his sternum.

Harry felt like his ribs had loosened, his whole body softening into a slouch of relief. It made him feel so much better to know John had some protection in case his exorcism was what riled the spirits up. It was just the two of them besides their powerless clients, and there wasn't a whole lot of wriggle room for mistakes when it came to fire damage.

John's smile dropped, a familiar pinch sinking between his eyebrows. Harry sent him a searching look, what else was bothering him?

"You said this will protect me from fire, right?"

"Yes, it should work sort of like an oven mitt. I don't recommend you dive into a furnace, but it will repel flames." Harry explained.

"What about yours? Wouldn't it be safer for both of us to wear one?" He asked.

Harry shrugged carelessly. "Oh, I haven't had time to make another. I just finished that one a few minutes before you came in."

John's expression softened for a moment. "You mean you made this just now? You were working on it this entire…" Then the pinch returned full force. "All right, then. Up." He commanded rather imperiously.

Harry quirked a brow but obeyed. "What's wrong?"

"At this rate, you're going to make yourself sick. You should be resting after your  _adventure_  downstairs. Come on, go to the bathroom and wash up, go. Are you sure you can handle a shower with those burns?"

Harry nearly tripped, completely bewildered as the priest began herding him to a bathroom near the masters' with all the brusqueness of Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm fine. I was just about to go- but I wanted you to have it as soon as possible- I'm  _completely_  capable of finding it on my- hey!" Harry's splutters went completely ignored as he was dumped on the toilet with the lid down and the shower was turned on to warm while John fetched a towel.

"What's with you all of a sudden?" Harry grumbled when John returned.

"I have a suspicion that you're the kind of person who forgets to take care of himself and I don't let my friends squat in soot for hours at a time if I can help it." John checked the water temperature and twisted the handle a little to the left.

"And I also wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have thought the worst of you like that after our first case together. I should've known you didn't look down on me." He admitted, bringing a hand up to play with Harry's runebind.

"You don't have to apologize, you know I don't hold any of it against you." Harry tried for an encouraging smile, but erupt into a tired yawn instead.

"I'll stop distracting you, the faster you're in bed the better. Make sure not to wet your bandages, the shower head detaches so you can use that to avoid the spray. I'll check on you in ten minutes in case you fall over in there." John warned over his shoulder before marching out and shutting the door behind him.

"Now who's doubting who? I'm not an invalid." Harry complained under his breath, but stripped out of his filthy clothes and stepped into the shower stall. He cast a quick  _Impervius_ charm over his arms and hands before ducking under the spray.

The amount of black water that puddled at his feet was disturbing, and the color didn't lighten until well into his second lather. By the time he was done, a faint rim of gray circled the stall and he felt worlds better.

John had already checked on him once, so Harry hurriedly slung the towel around his hips, tossed his clothes into the hamper by the door and slunk into his room to change in peace.

John had already seen quite a lot of him while Harry had been concussed during their first case together, but that didn't mean he had any intention of showing off his range of off-putting scars any further.

Harry thought he was home free, safe inside his room and turned to back to shut his bedroom door just in time for John's door across the hall to open.

Harry froze, accidentally made eye contact with the priest. Within the handful of seconds it took for the door to swing past him, he got to see John's blue eyes dart from scar to scar on his chest, an uncharacteristically dark look on his face. It was clear John had already seen most of it while caring for Harry during their first case, there was no hesitation between staring at the locket burn to switching for the second curse scar.

Harry's door was still in motion and clicked shut in horribly awkward silence. Harry just stood there like an idiot, face burning in mortification and dread welling in his lungs.

He looked blindly on ahead, waiting for the priest to cross the hall and confront him. What could he say? He had already told John his favorite explanation involving a neo-Nazi street gang, but would he believe they had something to do with  _all_ of his scars? Hardly any looked normal, the writing on his hand was downright impossible to replicate without magic.

The explosion never came, John's footsteps softened as he stepped further away from Harry's room, and his own door shut as well. Effectively cutting them off from each other, giving Harry his space.

Harry honestly had no idea what just happened. What was John thinking now? Why didn't he ask any questions or kick up a fuss, especially after worrying about his health less than an hour ago?

Hesitantly, as though waiting for John to change his mind and barge into his room demanding answers, Harry stumbled away from the door and changed into a clean set of pajamas. Still nothing happened, John didn't come back.

Harry left his towel on the ground and fell against his bed. He was too tired to stress over what John was thinking again. Now that he was washed and dried and he and John weren't fighting anymore, all he wanted to do was sleep. Even the threat of another fire wasn't alarming enough with John protected.

He let his eyes fall shut andwas asleep in what felt like the very next second.

* * *

"We're very sorry, Mr. Potter!" Hiruma and Suguro greeted Harry at the bottom of the stairs the next morning with a deep bow of apology.  
"We were careless not to provide you with protection from the fires." Suguro continued in the wake of Harry's speechlessness.

"We have been shameful hosts to you and dearly hope you will continue the case despite our failings." Hiruma added, neither lifting their heads.

"Er- um." Harry stuttered uselessly, looking over the prostrated hosts to find John peeking from the kitchen. The traitor only waved before retreating once more, leaving him alone.

"You should've definitely been more proactive about fire safety after the Suguro's injury." Harry acknowledged, watching them both practically hold their breath to hear his verdict. "Those spare fire extinguishers should have been in our rooms at the very least, but I won't leave you alone just because you messed up. A good Runemaster never leaves in the middle of a job, after all. You can lift your heads."

Suguro and Hiruma straightened from their bow, twin looks of deep relief on their faces.

"Thank you for your kindness." Suguro said gruffly, sketching another bow before walking into the hallway where that night's fire originated. His grungy overalls and blackened gloves explained his purpose fairly quickly, so Harry shifted his attention back to Hiruma.

"I wish we could offer to repay you for your injuries, but we're already giving you most of our savings as payment." She admitted morosely, dark eyes dropping to his bandages.  
"Then let me stay here for free whenever I'm in town." Harry demanded, slotting a serious look into place.

His words pried a shy smile from Hiruma, as intended.

"Hmm, I suppose I can offer that much, though you might be assigned to the basement if we're already booked." She chuckled hoarsely.

"Fine but I want a complimentary breakfast."  
"Only when you're in the basement."

"Sold."

Harry left her giggling before the staircase to join John in the kitchen, warm satisfaction curling in his belly.

"I tried to tell them you wouldn't leave but they were adamant about ambushing you as soon as you woke up." John greeted him wryly.

"The apology was nice, I suppose. But did they really wait for me until noon? I slept in pretty late."

John waved vaguely to the ceiling above their heads. "The pipes are old, they could hear you brushing your teeth, which I suppose is how they knew when  _I_ was coming down as well."

Harry brushed past him to pull his half-eaten omelet from the fridge. "Why do you think there was a fire last night? It doesn't match our theory."

John stilled at the subject change, brow furrowing. "I'm not sure. At this rate, the spirits may actually be acting out at complete random."

"Three spirits that suddenly began to act out in a century-old house only for their attacks to become randomized?" Harry asked skeptically. He had never heard of a spirit attacking people without correlation, never mind three at once.

"We're running out of characteristics." John shrugged. "Why do you think it happened?"

Harry's gaze dropped to the front of John's shirt, where his rosary and Harry's runebind were sat. "I think our theory might still be correct, but your exorcism aggravated the spirits enough to attack without the proper criteria."

John's eyes widened. "Of course! You might be onto something. Exorcisms have been known to draw extreme reactions from spirits, it could've taken a while for them to gather the energy necessary for starting a fire."

"You think you're up for another exorcism? If it was effective enough to anger them than it must've done some damage."

John nodded resolutely. "After you're finished in breakfast I'll begin, with any luck I can drive them away permanently this time."

Harry nodded in agreement and heated up his omelet, for a very late breakfast. He ate alone while John ran upstairs to change into his priestly robes.

If John's exorcism didn't generate any more results they may have to rely on Harry to search the house for three areas the spirits could be haunting, a detection glyph could help. He wasn't looking forward to designing a glyph so highly tuned, though, that might require a few aspirins to get through every antique. Of course he could also just instruct the hosts to dispose of former homeowner Izuhara's old things, but it would be a huge waste of money if the haunting was based in the house itself.

Once John was prepared, robes neat and bible clutched, Harry followed him around with a fire extinguisher clutched in his good hand.

It wasn't terribly exciting to hear the same incantation over and over again as he silently kept watch for retaliation, but he wasn't going to compromise on safety to relieve boredom. Every now and then he brushed his magic over his detection sets to check for fluctuations, but the three faint spirits only continued flickering like half-lit birthday candles, neither weaker nor stronger.

The hosts weren't creeping around either, Hiruma had been sitting behind the reception desk for the entirety of the exorcism and Suguro only left the hallway in brief spurts before returning with whatever supplies he retrieved.

John finished his exorcism in front of the guest rooms he and Harry were originally placed in, leaving Harry to inspect what Suguro had repaired in the meantime.

It looked like he had finished peeling away damaged wallpaper and scrubbing ash out of the carpet, so half the hallway appeared oddly naked with patches of ancient wood framing sticking out beyond the newest coats of paint.

John took a few calming breaths after talking for nearly fifteen minutes straight, and then turned to the politely silent Suguro. "Is that a dumbwaiter? I've never seen one before."

Harry took another look at the old wood and realized that what he had thought was more framing was, in fact, a panel connected to hinges and a keyhole. It looked to be made of the same wood as the rest of the house, but it was missing a knob.

"Hn? Oh, yeah. I'm pretty sure it used to be a dumbwaiter, but it was buried under a good three layers of wallpaper before the fires started. That's the only reason we know it's there. Must've broken down years ago and no one bothered to fix it." Suguro huffed, giving it a ginger pat with his scar riddled hands.

"Was there anything inside when you found it?" Harry asked curiously.

"Dunno, all the doors to it are locked and the handles were removed. Misao pried the basement door open a few weeks before my...accident, but she couldn't see a lever or box. It was probably removed too."

"I suppose that's not too odd in a house this old." John hummed, and then looked to Harry.  
"So did your runes pick up anything?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope, I didn't detect any difference before or after the exorcism."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to wait and see if something happens later." John sighed in frustration.

"Father Brown, you should know that no guest has ever stayed after a fire. The fires chased them out every single time, so I'm not sure what the ghost is capable of doing next." Suguro warned, glancing meaningfully at the fire extinguisher in Harry's hands. "What if this is just the beginning?"

Goosebumps prickled up Harry's arms at the idea, could the fires really just be stage one for these spirits? They didn't feel strong enough to escalate any further, but he couldn't be sure.

"In that case, we should try not to be alone at any time. Can you hold off on repairs and stick close to Hiruma for now?" Harry decided, glancing to John for a nod of agreement.

"I guess no one's going to see this wall for a while, and I can help with paperwork." Suguro allowed, tugging the gloves off his bandaged hands. "Misao shouldn't be alone after that last fire, anyway."

He brushed past them without another word, leaving a garbage bag full of old wallpaper and a mop propped against the undamaged portion of the wall.

"You should make an amulet for yourself now." John prompted, gently pulling the fire extinguisher from his grip. "If he's right then we should be prepared."

"Yeah, I should start trying to find any object that could be protecting the spirits from being exorcised too." Harry headed for his new bedroom, where he had left his satchel.

John followed after him, amulet and rosary clinking together with each step. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Harry thought about it for a moment, maybe he could still use his three detection glyphs even if they were stationary? John could help that way and they might make some progress.

"We could go to the basement while I make another runebind and you could drag things closer to my glyph to see if anything down there holds a spirit?" He suggested.

"You want me to move Mrs. Izuhara's things to your runes and you'll be able to sense if these lost souls get closer?"

"Yeah, is that okay?" Harry looked back to see John beaming at him.

"Of course! I'm just impressed! Your abilities make me wonder why there aren't more Runemasters with your specialty."

"Oh, er, thanks." Harry hurriedly turned away again. "The spiritual stuff isn't really what we're best at, so there isn't a lot of interest. You would've probably already solved this case if Hara had come instead, you know?"

"No, I'm glad I asked you. You're talented in different ways than Masako, and fire fighting abilities were definitely more useful than a medium last night."

Harry felt his face redden and he quickly left the stairs to retreat into his room for the satchel. "Thanks."

They headed for the basement in silence after that, tiptoeing past the scorch marks and finding his glyph sat in a cleared away circle. Harry flopped on to the floor to pull out the material he needed, mistrustful of the mildew ridden chairs. John immediately went to work hunting down old jewelry boxes and spineless books to move about the room.

Harry kept one metaphorical hand on his glyph set, monitoring for any change as he began burning the fire protection runebind onto a tile.

He had to go slow, mindful not to make a mistake while wave after wave of the same information crashed over him. He kept his back to John in order to hide his wand and with the glyph giving Harry the priest's clear details, he didn't even have to look at John to know where he was.

"Are you getting anything?" John asked impatiently, shoving a writing desk closer to the glyph.

"Not yet." He hummed distractedly, pocketing his wand as the design cooled.

He pressed his unbandaged palm against the wooden tile and began weaving his magic into place slowly, painfully slowly. His head began to throb as he still monitored the glyph over and over, searching for any sign that a spirit had moved with an object. It was in that room, he just needed to know where exactly.

"How about now?"

Harry didn't respond, his palms getting sweaty and his breath coming in controlled pants. It wasn't easy to impress a runebind together in the best of times and the magic spitting and twisting away only made it worse.

"Harry?"

"I'll tell you when-" Harry bit out shortly, cutting his sentence short as another rune tangled together incorrectly.

John took the hint and didn't speak again, he worked steadily and without pause. The basement was silent save for their heavy breaths for a long period of time afterward.

Time ticked on in strained, frustrated minutes. The throbbing had bloomed into a full blown headache somewhere along the way but Harry was too distracted to take much note.

Finally, Harry was finished with the blasted amulet. He strung it roughly by a cord and tied it around his neck. The glyph had yet to report any change in the spirit's position and John had already cleared through nearly half the room by then.

He climbed to his feet and began helping, dragging a couch closer, picking up a handful of hat boxes to shift around, even gathering leftover china to test. Anything he could handle with one hand he did as quickly as possible. Nothing happened though, the spirit remained stationary.

"The spirit might be buried under the house." John murmured dejectedly, plucking yet another portrait from the ground. It was smaller than the others, Harry noted. And dirtier-

Harry jolted as though electrified and stumbled over to John and his find.

"Harry?" John asked cautiously, hope blooming in his eyes.

"All three spirits," Harry gasped. "They did something. I don't know what. It fluctuated."

They both stared at the portrait in excitement, this had to be a breakthrough.

John pulled them both to the bottom of the steps leading up to the first floor, where the lights were brightest. He slid the photograph from its battered frame to see who could be one of their spirits. Harry leaned in close, hardly breathing.

The picture was of a young woman. She wore a plain, but clearly expensive dress with her black hair pulled into a bun almost as severe as her expression. She looked sick, with droopy eyes and sallow skin visible even in a grainy black and white photograph. She sat alone.

"Yoshimi Hata, 20 years old." John read haltingly, the kanji smeared on the back of the photo.

"Hata? That was the family that had this house built." Harry hummed, noting a tiny inscription in the corner of the photo. It was a date, the year was 1880.

"Did you do any research on the Hata family?" Harry asked, he hadn't.

"I remember Misao said that Mrs. Izuhara was a cousin who inherited the house after the sole heiress passed on childless." John mumbled, flipping the photograph back over to stare at the woman's face. "This isn't the wife who bought this house with her husband, that's not her name. There wasn't a lot I could find on their daughter however, I don't know if this is her."

"We can ask Hiruma, she'll probably know. It has to be important if the spirits reacted to yo-"  
The door leading to the first floor was suddenly thrown open and Hiruma practically fell down the stairs to find them.

"I've been looking for you everywhere! Are you okay? You two aren't hurt?" She gasped frantically.

"We're fine, we're fine. What's wrong?" John soothed, holding her steady as she heaved huge gasps.

"Oh my God, I was so worried when we couldn't find you! A fire broke out by John's room. Jou caught it early and nothing was too damaged, but then you- you weren't there and-"

She gave a shuddering sigh, eyes wet.

"Everything's fine then. We're all safe, no one was hurt." John shushed compassionately, exchanging wary glances with Harry in the meantime.

"The fire, when do you think it started?" Harry asked reluctantly.

"J-just a few minutes ago! We were so lucky this time!" She cried.

Was that what Harry felt? Was the picture John found completely accidental? He ground his teeth angrily, every time he thought they were making progress everything was snatched away just as fast.

He looked at the picture of Yoshimi Hata, was she one of the three spirits or was this all just a stupid coincidence? At this rate Harry might not figure it out until the entire building burnt down around him.

* * *

**And done!**

**I noticed a lot of my 'relationship building moments' surround a conflict, which I think might be because I like constructive arguments in the things I read. I don't know. Anyway, how was angry!John? I knew he and Harry couldn't agree on everything but I honestly had no idea how John would actually react in canon since he never got mad. I think I did okay, but it was weird to write. He's such a cinnamon roll I couldn't imagine him being mad for very long about anything.**

**Oh! Before I forget! You should ALWAYS take serious burns to the hospital AND run them under cold water for a long period of time. I kinda fudged it a bit to get on with the story, but this wasn't the proper way to handle Harry's burns, never mind his smoke inhalation. He's lucky he's magical is all I'm saying.**

**While we're on fire safety, if the knob of a closed door is warm do NOT open it! Fire eats up oxygen, creating a vacuum. If you open your door the sudden rush of oxygen from your room to the other might honestly create a deadly explosion. Just a completely unwanted PSA for you guys.**

**Also, the plot thickens! Has anyone got guesses yet? This is my first real mystery so I doubt I hid things very well. Do you know what's up with this house yet?**

**I think I'm gonna wrap this up in one more chapter and then get back to the canon cases. All my stuff is in place and it might be time for the case finale? We'll see.**

**Please leave a review on your way out!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SIDE FILE 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention that because I'm copying these chapters directly off of my posted ff.net chapters, they might have some of the problems those chapters have. Fanfiction.net keeps messing with my submissions and some paragraphs end up repeating, being crushed into other paragraphs, or just looking awkward. I'll fix them if I come across them, but since it's almost impossible to get them all on ff.net since just resubmitting can cause more glitches, I'll miss a few.

**This one is a bit on the horror/gruesome side, okay? Not nightmare material, but I'm honestly not sure how old people in the Ghost Hunt fandom are. Consider yourself warned!**

**And here's our OC lineup!**

* * *

**Misao Hiruma and Jou Suguro- The hosts of the Eastern Manor Bed and Breakfast.**

**Mayako Izuhara- The late owner of the house who died of natural causes in a hospital. She was from a branch family of the Hata clan.**

**The Hata family- A wealthy family who had the house built for them in the late eighteen hundreds.**

**Yoshimi Hata- Someone apparently from the Hata family.**

 

* * *

"You should room with me tonight." Harry decided, unable to tear his gaze away from the tiny strip of singed wallpaper that separated the new scorch marks from John's bedroom door.

The fire had been so close to his room, could they escalate to the point of trapping him inside? To burning inside his room, where no one would notice?

"What?" John blinked at him, startled.

"This confirms our theory, doesn't it? The spirits are reacting to your exorcisms. It's too dangerous to leave you alone for that long."

John grimaced, looking back to the black stain. The walls were still dripping foam from being put out mere minutes ago, leaving smudgy trails like finger paint right down to the floor. "I suppose you're right. This does look rather threatening."

"It would be safer for all of us to sleep on the first floor too." Suguro pointed out. "Easier to get out fast."

Harry nodded, toying with the runebind hanging from his neck. "That's a good idea, there are two guest bedrooms in that hallway, yeah? We could split them between each other."

"I'll get our stuff together." John volunteered, pinning him with a chiding look. "You should check on your injuries, you must be in some pain now."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I rewrapped them before I came down, I have some medical equipment in my bag. It's only my hand, you know, I'm not an invalid."

John hummed neutrally, neither of them willing to resume fighting so soon. He ducked into his room first and Harry let him do what he wished. He hadn't unpacked, there was only a duffel full of clothes at the foot of his bed so John wouldn't be too unduly burdened.

Instead, he examined the walls, which were much less damaged than the hallway downstairs. The fire had only spread along one side of the hallway, covering a few feet and just barely reaching John's door frame. It ruined a floral oil painting and most of the wallpaper surrounding the scorch was singed and curling, but it didn't look too dramatic.

Suguro tracked his gaze and sighed. "That old painting was ugly anyways, it hung crooked too."

"Why hang it then?" Harry asked in bemusement.

Suguro knocked the painting right off the wall with a sharp rap, it clattered to the ground in ashy splinters and canvas. Behind it was an old wooden panel.

"We didn't have the money to replace all the wallpaper so it's not as thick up here after the first fire burnt through it. Misao hung the painting up to hide the bumps the dumbwaiter hinges make underneath now."

Harry straightened. "Oh! I forgot I wanted to ask her a question, do you know where she is?"

Suguro jabbed a finger toward the stairs. "Her throat started hurting again so I made her take a break and drink some of that tea. She should still be in the kitchen."

"Thank you." Harry trot down the stairs and back to the basement to pick up the portrait of Yoshimi Hata he and John found earlier.

He didn't know if it was even worth bringing up, as he was more and more certain the disturbance he felt had been the fire starting and not John's discovery, but it couldn't hurt to find out more.

He looked at the woman for a moment, wondering if she had been the daughter who died alone. She might've been pretty, in a classical sort of way, if she hadn't looked so sick and miserable. From the pinch of her lips to the rigid line of her bony shoulder, she looked like even posing for the picture had been a distasteful chore.

He carried it back up to the first floor and found Hiruma sipping tea at the dining table.

"Harry, is everything alright?" She asked anxiously, scanning him for more burns.

"Everything's fine, the fire was small like you said." He assured, striding over to place the portrait on the table next to her.  
"I was just hoping you recognized this woman. John found her picture right before the fire happened, her name is-"

"Yoshimi Hata, yes I recognize her." Hiruma confirmed excitedly, placing her tea before eagerly looking over the frame. "I don't know how Jou and I missed this! We went down there so many times, I thought I found all of the Hata's belongings."

She smoothed a hand down the inky writing on the back. "1880...I have a picture of her too, but it's when she's much older. She was pretty."

"So this is the daughter Izuhara inherited this house from?" Harry guessed, and Hiruma nodded happily.

"She was really hard to find past her first couple years, her parents kept appearing at social gatherings and were well documented but she was a complete hermit."

Hiruma darted out of the room and came sprinted back with a thick binder, she flipped through buttons, letters, and more portraits before stopping near the end. "Here's the only picture I could find, it's a copy I made from the library."

She pointed to a larger picture, the camera is clearer and the photograph was much newer than the one John found. In the corner was the year, 1920.

The woman forty years later was nearly unrecognizable. Yoshimi Hata at only sixty looked another thirty years older, with deep wrinkles, filmy eyes, and scraggly thin hair. She stood imperiously before her door, so thin a strong breeze might take her away, but planted firmly with what only looked like hatred in her cheerless face.

She was still wearing fine clothes, a fur draped across her rigid shoulders, but the rest of her was more fit on wrathful banshee than on an heiress.

"She died not soon after this article was published, her house just became a century old." Hiruma mumbled, examining the younger photograph of Yoshimi Hata.

"Did she have some sort of disease? A mental illness?" Harry wondered, what an odd way for a clearly successful family to disappear. Why settle for a single child, especially one so obviously troubled? Were there genetic health problems in the family?

"I believe so. I've read a few business interviews with Yoshimi's father and he always deflected whenever someone brought up his daughter, though that rarely happened. I couldn't find any documents from a private doctor though, so I don't think it was physical."

"Do you know how she died exactly?" Harry asked. If she died so early it had to have been the result of her illness, right?

"All I could find was an obituary in the paper. A maid reported that she died in an accident in the home and since Izuhara was her closest living relative, she handled the funeral arrangements."

"I don't suppose Izuhara wrote about that somewhere." Harry sighed. He might have found one of the spirits, but she was so undocumented it felt like trying to catch smoke.

"She didn't keep a journal." Hiruma confirmed with a wry laugh. "Reclusiveness must have been a Hata trait! Even Yoshimi's parents, rich socialites, were sent to a highly private institution for their education from eleven onwards."

Harry froze.

He'd...never heard of a spirit that could...but was it possible? No way it was so simple…

"B-both of her parents? What an odd coincidence." He said hoarsely.

"Isn't it? They met there so I suppose it isn't so unlikely that they married, but it's a little odd for high-class families to send their children to school with almost no prestige. I doubt many people even know about it."

"Hiruma, could I see your guestbook please?" Harry burst out, ignoring her startled look. He couldn't remember where his phone was and John was busy and he needed to see the names  _now_.

"Of course, let me get it." She placed the portrait of Yoshimi Hata back on the table and bustled for her desk.

Harry stared down at the dead heiress' image. Try as he might he couldn't stop thinking about it, connected all the dots, tying all the loose ends. It fit so  _perfectly_  it was a little maddening. The education level of the guests made sense, the fires going on even now made sense, the periods of quiet made sense, but  _why_?

Hiruma placed her book in front of him and he wasted no time flipping to the guest names specially marked for their presence during a fire.

He couldn't tell with the Japanese names, he would need to ask Hiruma or Suguro, but not yet. He found the European names and began tallying up one similarity both he and John had missed.

_Orla Bode_

_Tenebrus Timms_

_Nolan Curd_

_Icarus Brookstanton_

_Eudora Swann_

These were all old-fashioned names.

"Is everything okay?" Hiruma asked a little timidly, and Harry slid the book over to her.

"I think I figured something out, but first- is there something odd about the names of your Japanese guests?" He demanded.

She peered down at the list, worrying her lip. Slowly, she scanned through a few pages while Harry stared, feeling as though he was about to crawl out of his own skin.

"Hmm...I can't really find anything  _too_  strange." She mumbled, and Harry's heart sank. Was he wrong again?

"I mean, besides being a bit old-fashioned. Naming your daughter  _Shimo_  is a little...but I suppose it can be stylish when done right."

Harry looked back up, buzzing excitedly. "So they're old-fashioned? Out of style?"

Hiruma pursed her lips, looking very confused. "I suppose so." She allowed, tilting her head. "But what does that have to do with the ghost? Surely they wouldn't care about something like that."

"It's not their names that really matter," He explained absently, reworking all his theories to figure out what the spirits wanted. "I believe they might have all come from the same community. It's a trend to name your children a certain way."

"Thank you for your help." He said sincerely, before Hiruma could respond. He turned on his heel and fled to the first bedroom assigned to him without looking back. He couldn't explain any further and wanted to figure out the case before another fire lit.

Sitting on the bed, he thought about what he'd learned.

The spirits were attacking witches and wizards. Every time a wizard stayed the night, a fire chased them out. They were attacking even now not because John was exorcising them, but because Harry hadn't left yet. The Hata family had been magical, but Izuhara hadn't. That's why Izuhara hadn't experienced any fires in the decades she lived in the house, that's why Hiruma and Suguro hadn't experienced fires even throughout the entire renovation process. It was only when a wizard was present in the house.

A curse? But that wouldn't explain the three signatures he detected.

Maybe spirits with a grudge against the Hatas incapable of distinguishing their magic from others? But how would they get in? Only one person ever died on the property and that was Yoshimi, and she was a witch so-

Wait, was she?

Yoshimi never went to a boarding school, she never left the house. After her first few years both her parents stopped bringing her to events and avoiding speaking about her in public. Could she have been a squib?

If she was a squib, resentment might've been a good enough motivator for-

"Ah!"

A short shout had Harry off the bed in half a second. He lowered his center of gravity, hand twitching for the wand hidden in the sleeve of his sweater. His eyes sliced through the room for danger, but all he found was John at the door.

His eyes were dark and his face was still. Both his arms were raised, palms up, as he tracked Harry's movements as though he were a dangerous animal.

"I didn't mean to startle you." John murmured softly. "You just surprised me, I didn't notice you were in here at first."

Cheeks heating, Harry straightened out and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. "It's fine. I just...thought something was wrong." He said, carefully avoiding John's gaze to stare down at his own feet. Honestly, he was lucky John was the forgiving sort. Anyone else might've thought he was a lunatic with how quick he was to overreact.

John remained somber, padding into the room to place the last of their luggage by the bed before shutting the door, closing the two of them off from the rest of the house.

"John?" Maybe Harry had overestimated John's capacity for lunacy.

John didn't immediately turn back to him, the line of his shoulders was tense.

"I've been meaning to speak to you about this for a while, I just wasn't sure how to approach it without coming off...confrontational." He began ominously.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked nervously. What could have possibly wound John up so tightly? Hadn't they made up already? "Did I do something wrong?"

Harry watched, wide-eyed, as John actually wound tenser, coiled like a spring. "Not in the least." He said in a falsely light voice. "Truly, I'm not angry with you. I wasn't even sure I wanted to bring this up, but..." And here his tone returned to its darker pitch. "It's hard to ignore."

This didn't put Harry at ease at all. He remained quiet, studying the priest as he turned to face him.

John's were eyes filled with something grim and his hands had come together to clasp at his rosary. He looked both sad and determined and Harry had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth.

"Harry, you know that I've been appointed to serve at churches before, during my training to become an exorcist." He began rather randomly.

Harry didn't dare respond so John continued. "Many people confessed to me, being so young I was considered more approachable to certain people. Some asked me for advice and blessings for specific reasons."

"One of those reasons was unhappy homes. Religiously-minded children who were being hurt by their loved ones would come to me and ask for my help. I helped as many as I could, but some fell from my reach." Grief swam over John, making him appear smaller than he was. "A few ran away."

Harry was beginning to suspect where John was going with this and suddenly felt an incredibly strong urge to smash his way through the window to escape. Was this worse than being kicked off the case? He honestly wasn't sure.

"You're an adult and I'm not your priest." John allowed, creeping closer to him with caution one might use for a scared dog. "But I am your friend, and I want you to know that I'm here for you if you want to talk about it."

"J-John, I think there was a misunderstanding." Harry protested through numb lips. "I- I'm not-" It wasn't abuse, it was  _war_.

John reached out and plucked his wrist. "I'm not blind." He told him, turning his arm around to trace a line through his cotton sleeve, down from his wrist to his elbow.

Directly over the scar Wormtail gave him in his fourth year.

"Nor am I deaf. When you had a concussion you thought you were homeless and living in the woods."

"It's not what it looks like!" He protested, yanking his arm away. "My relatives never hit me, I was never abused or anything." Harry was mortified. He'd acted like such a freak over the course of getting to know John that the priest actually thought he was some poor abuse case.

There was no lost love between him and the Dursleys, and he still felt the repercussions of their treatment to this day, but it was never  _physical_. He was never slapped around like he'd read in books and heard rumors about.

John stared at him somberly, eyes far too sharp and knowing. It felt like he was looking through every lense, examining every particle that made up Harry's secrets and shames. "Harry, you have far too many scars to convince me no one's hurt you."

"Harry, you have far too many scars to convince me no one's hurt you."

Harry flushed, opening his mouth to protest further but John cut him off.

"I understand that you're uncomfortable talking about it, I just meant to tell you I'm here if you need me, I'll listen whenever you want to talk about it. "

Harry looked away, his whole body squirming with discomfort. He wanted to leave so badly he could almost feel his magic itching to apparate, he didn't want to have this sort of conversation  _ever_. Especially with a friend.

"Though...I suppose there is one thing I'd like answered."

Harry stiffened, eyes squeezed shut.

"Whoever hurt you, they're not doing it any longer are they? You're okay now?"

Harry blinked up at John, who looked so melancholy and empathic Harry was hard pressed not to feel another surge of self-loathing just for putting that expression on his face. But if that was all he wanted to know...not who they were or why someone might try to hurt him...It wasn't a question muggles asked when they saw his scars.

Unbidden, one of Harry's hands rose to press lightly against the center of his second lightning bolt scar. "...they're gone now." Harry hadn't had to fight for his life in three years

"Then I'm glad." John said, but he didn't smile. Instead, his blue eyes slowly softened like a sunrise to beat back the night.

Harry sucked in an unsteady breath, calming himself in the quiet aftermath of one of the most awkward conversations of his life.

"Good!" He piped with false cheer. His voice was deafening in the silence between them. "Then how about we go back down to the basement and move some more stuff around?" He wanted to leave the room so badly he was fighting a nervous twitch.

John dropped the rest of his sober manner to give a comical groan, misery in every pore. His shameless display dragged a genuine smile to Harry's lips, which he suspected was the goal.

The two trudged back down the steps and into the basement to resume their grueling, thankless bid for more information.

As far as Harry was concerned, he welcomed the chore. Anything to throw himself into so he didn't have to think about what just transpired. He actively began thinking of something else, anything else.

If Yoshimi Hata was a spirit who hated those with magic, would he find the heirlooms of other bitter squibs in the basement? Were all these spirits squibs or just those snubbed by theHatas? He supposed only time would tell, but what were odds of three squibs haunting the same house?

* * *

They moved objects around the dark, stuffy basement for another three hours before finally calling it quits. Not a single thing Harry or John touched made his glyph react, the spirit remained firmly on the edge of his triad.

Grouchy and sweaty, they both retreat for showers before joining the equally exhausted hosts for dinner. Suguro made a stir fry spread that smelled wonderful, but the way the couple was eating it might as well have been plain toast.

There wasn't a lot of conversation over the dinner, mostly planning safety precautions for the night and plotting out other places to search for objects tied to the spirits.

"But you're sure no one ever dug under the house?" Harry pressed tiredly. It was his only other theory for where the spirit in the basement might be.

"The flooring there has always been cement and I can't find any documentation proving that any of the former owners hired anyone who wasn't a maid or an occasional plumber. I don't think there was ever an opportunity to break through the floor." Hiruma shrugged, an apologetic twist to her lips.

"You've been down there all day too. Didn't see any marks where the cement was refilled, did you?" Suguro pointed out, and John let out a discouraged sigh.

"How about the ceiling of the basement? How thick is the wood paneling on the first floor?" Harry switched.

"I put down most of that wood myself. I didn't find anything pulling up the old floors, just spiders." Suguro shook his head.

"We can always look on a different floor." John suggested, picking at his food. "It doesn't have to be that specific level."

Harry finished his last steamed carrot and placed his fork back on his plate. "I suppose…"

The conversation, as unmotivated as it was, dwindled into silence after that.

Harry retreated to his shared room, frustrated and tired in equal amounts.

He shouldn't expect to have solved the case in under twenty-four hours, that was an arrogance hardly anyone dealing in spirits could plausibly boast. But to not have  _any_  real leads by the second day with constant spiritual activity was hard to swallow, especially so soon after the contradicting mess that was the old schoolhouse case.

"Cheer up, Harry. We've only just started." John urged half an hour later, looping the last button of his flannel pajamas together on his way into their bedroom.

"I know." Harry sighed and rolled onto his side to face the other. "It's just- they're right  _there_."

He could feel all three spirits, frustratingly static and right out of reach. There were right outside his grasp, a hair's breadth from providing a location. The three spirits might as well be laughing at him

"Well, at least we can rule out arson." John pointed out, sitting a polite distance away on the other side of the bed.

"Do you think so?" Truthfully, Harry had stopped suspecting them as soon as he saw how hard Suguro worked on repairs. There was no way the hosts could get even half of what they put into the bed and breakfast if they burned it down for insurance fraud.

"You felt the spirits set that last fire, right? So now we know without a doubt it was them."

He had a point, it wasn't like they weren't making  _any_  progress. Maybe Harry was just being impatient.

"Sorry, I'm just being moody. You're right. " He murmured, scooting over to provide the priest with more room. They were using different blankets, but the bed wasn't so large that they could ignore each other's presence.

John accepted the extra space and laid down beside him. It was a little awkward if Harry was being honest, but he'd been in a dorm before and this wasn't so different. "Ah, thank you. You don't need to apologize, I just think you're being a little hard on yourself."

Harry hummed non-committedly and shifted to reach for the lamp. "You want the lights out?"

"Oh, yes please. I'm going to read for a little bit, but I brought a reading light. I hope you don't mind."

Harry turned to peek at John, spying a wrinkled letter and a small plastic light. "Is it another client?" He wondered.

John's cheeks pinked. "O-oh, no. It's my family. Long-distance calls can get a little expensive, so my parents write more often."

Harry wondered what John's parents were like for a moment. Where they proud or ashamed that their son went to college to become an exorcist? Did they tell people what he does when they ask? Do they know about every single case he'd been on.

The closest he came to understanding what writing to parents might be like was through Ron and Hermione, and he hardly ever talked about his cases. They were usually updates on how he was and asking after Teddy, which suited him fine.

But Harry had pried enough, so instead of asking any of his questions he turned the light off and rolled away from the priest. "Then I'll leave you alone, good night."

John wiggled around a bit to get comfortable, and with a faint click, their shadows stretched across to the wall. "Good night."

Harry shut his eyes and slept.

* * *

Harry had an uneasy rest, constantly disturbed by every shift and twist John made. Even the click of him turning off the light pulled Harry directly from a vague dream and back into reality without a lick of drowsiness. So when John went up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, Harry was wide awake again and growing less and less tolerant of the priest's antics with each passing minute.

He didn't bother trying to go back to sleep, instead waiting with his eyes closed for John to return. He didn't have to wait long.

John came skidding back in, breaths a little quick and steps a little loud. Harry opened his eyes to find him staring down at Harry with wild eyes and a manic grin.

"I think I figured it out." He barely whispered, face flushing with excitement.

Harry pulled himself up and blinked at John. "Figured what out?" He asked confusedly.

"The ghosts! I think I figured it out!" John danced away nodding toward the still lit hallway. "Come look!"

With a sigh, Harry shuffled out of bed, biting back a shiver as his bed-warmed feet touched the cold, wooden floors. He followed the still grinning John out into the hallway where he stopped right in front of the burnt wall.

"It's the dumbwaiter!" John declared, pointing a finger rather dramatically at the locked panel on the wall.

Harry was just getting more confused. "Yeah...it is." He agreed slowly.

John shook his head, pointing again. "I was thinking about the fires on my way back and saw the dumbwaiter and figured it out! The fires start _in_  the dumbwaiter!"

Harry sucked in a breath, eyes wide. John continued triumphantly, clearly pleased by his reaction. "A fire has appeared on every level of this bed and breakfast, but they all have one thing in common- they all start on the same wall as the dumbwaiter. It makes perfect sense! It was traveling inside the wall, that's why nothing we moved touched the spirit! They're inside the wall!"

Harry felt as though he were struck by lightning. It did make sense, it was the only correlation between locations. How could they all have missed it for so long...No wonder his glyphs could barely find the spirits, they were  _literally_  just out of reach! And- Harry felt his own smile stretch across his face.

"And who's to say it's three spirits? There could just be one, but stretched across the entire dumbwaiter. All three spirits were almost too weak to display activity, but if it's  _one combined_ …"

John nodded frantically, his hair a ridiculous mass of yellow curls that bobbed with every movement. "That spirit would have plenty of energy to light fires whenever it pleased! But why would it be so tall? Is the dumbwaiter the cursed object?"

Harry frowned and thought about it, drowsiness flushed so far from his mind he practically felt hyper. Why would a spirit be stretched across three levels of a house? He doubted a dumbwaiter shaft could be cursed or haunted, it was mostly a device for servants and was hardly used by the nobility who owned them.

Unless...unless the ghost was Yoshimi Hata, who was discovered by a servant after some sort of accident…

Harry was already heading for the basement door before he realized what he was doing, heart thudding and mind racing. John wasn't far behind, having apparently guessed what he intended to do.

The only dumbwaiter that was open was the one in the basement, the one Hiruma pried open. The one that released a blast of fire so violent it sent Suguro to the hospital.

It all made sense now.

Harry barely remembered to turn on the light before he was face to face with the panel to the dumbwaiter, scratched and dented from being opened without a key.

It was a medium size, big enough for a lunch spread to be safely transported but not a human. It was made of the same musty wood as the rest of the house, save for the hinges and lock. But it seemed so menacing now, like the gateway to a black hole.

"What do you think is inside?" John whispered, shifting from foot to foot with his rosary clutching tight.

"Hiruma said Yoshimi Hata was the daughter and she died in an accident in this house." Harry reached out and grasped the knob of the dumbwaiter, fingers tingling.

"I think Yoshimi Hata is still inside."

Screwing up his courage, Harry swung the door open, flinching when it cracked against the wall but he kept his eyes open, straining to see anything. Both Harry and John stared inside the shadows of the dumbwaiter, but there was nothing. Just a rusty chain that might have been a lever and cobwebs. This is what Hiruma found.

Harry pulled in a deep breath, heart in his throat as he stepped closer and closer, until his chest bumped against the edge of the dumbwaiter. John squirmed behind him, quick prayers falling from his mouth like breaths.

Harry stuck his head inside the dumbwaiter shaft, holding his breath. Nothing happened, not a shift or creak of the entire house.

Everything was still, so he looked up.

The shaft of the dumbwaiter was pitch black, only a sliver of light from the first floor hallway leaking through from the dumbwaiter panel on that floor to help beat back the absolute darkness. Harry waited for his eyes to adjust, and began to his search.

Some parts were harder to distinguish than others, was that a radius or was that a piece of rotting wood? Were those thick cobwebs or decomposing hair? Was this a forgotten tea towel or shredded lace from a dress?

But what was staring at him from the tangled mess of chains could only be a decades old skull. The bone wasn't bleached white yet, but the eyeless sockets were unmistakable. The gaping jaw was skinless, but still hanging by the last strands of muscles and fats to the rest of the skull to make for an eternal silent scream.

"Yoshimi." Harry whispered, eyes traveling past the skull to spy an undeniable femur bone jammed further up the shaft. She really was stretched across all three levels of the manor.

"W-what? You found her?" John squeaked.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, only to notice precious seconds too late that it was oddly warm inside the shaft.

A blinding explosion of bright, bright fire slammed directly into Harry, tossing him like a ragdoll with fiery, searing heat. Harry smacked against something and landed hard on the ground, his ears were ringing and his skin was burning and he  _hurt_.

And then, in the same rapid fashion, all of it fell away like gravity, then he wasn't anything at all.

* * *

" _Get out! Getoutgetoutgeoutgetoutgetout! Go!" The inhuman shriek was piercing, laced with malice and ferocity._

_Harry opened his eyes to find a hideous, twisted creature not inches from his face._

_Harry scrambled away, dodging a sharp-nailed swipe of a wrinkled hand._

" _You're not welcome! Get out! This is_ my _house and you aren't welcome! Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout! You're in_ my _house!"_

_The creature was contorted and disfigured, with thin, ragged hair and emaciated grey features. It might have been wearing something expensive, but the dress was stained and torn to rags. The only spot of color on the thing before him was the_ fire _licking at every pore like a hellish halo._

" _Y-you're Yoshimi Hata." Harry stammered, dodging a scrambling lunge as the creature howled wordlessly in rage._

" _You h-hate wizards?"_

" _Unnatural, evil, demonic, abominations!" Yoshimi screamed. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! This is_ my _house now! You're not welcome anymore!"_

_Harry blinked. He had expected Yoshimi to correct him, tell him it was halfbloods or mudbloods she hated. She was most likely a squib, but shouldn't she have made an exception for her own parents?_

" _A-all wizards? W-what about the Hatas?"_

_He barely ducked a vicious punch, rolling away from the frothing...spirit? Why was he wrestling with a ghost again? Where was he for that matter?_

" _Mother and Father can burn in hell for eternity, where demons_ belong _!" Yoshimi spat, absolute hatred in her filmy eyes. "Were so sure that demons were superior that they never thought their_ disgusting _disappointing_ squib mistake _could ever put them back."_

_Harry shuddered, backing away from the disfigured creature. "'Put them back?' In hell, you mean? You killed them?"_

" _I'll kill you too." She swore savagely. "I'll kill you all! You aren't allowed in my house! Not ever!"_

" _Wait, I'm here to help you!" Harry yelped, blocking a wild punch and kicking Yoshimi away. "Don't you want to be put to rest? Give your body the resp-shit!"_

_She almost landed her pounce, glancing off his shoulder at the last second and sending him skidding away. He wasted no time leaping to his feet and jogging to increase the distance._

" _Help?" She snarled. "Help get rid of the embarrassment? Help put me out of my misery? It's too late now!_ I'm _the Hata heir! I'm in charge! This is_ my _house! And in my house demons_ die _!"_

_Harry watched in horror as Yoshimi raised a wrinkled, clawed hand and let flame climb up her skin and settle on her palm._

" _Die-"_ "-Harry!"

"Harry!"

Harry jolted upright, eyes burning and lungs tight. He coughed harshly, blinking to clear his eyes of tears. The basement was hazy and crackling with fire. All of Izuhara's old things were fueling a huge blaze. A burning mass of red flame that was so hot he could feel it against his skin.

"Harry! Can you hear me?" John's face ducked into view, smudged with soot and trembling with fear.

"I know it hurts but I need you to pay attention." John begged, and the raw panic in his voice steeled Harry's insides.

He shook his head, hoping to clear the haze, and pulled himself into a slumped sitting position. His whole body throbbed and his burnt hand was searing agony right into his core. Glancing down, he grimaced.

His rune had done its job and protected him from the brunt of the blast, but it hadn't protected what he was wearing and that included the gauze bandages on his hand and arms. It was fairly obvious that for several moments he had literally been on fire, and there was only so much a triad runebind could do.

His bandages were ash and in their place were reopened burn wounds and oozing blisters. There were swipes of new pink burns under his hole-ridden sleep shirt too, he could see them. He didn't lift it up to inspect for more burns though, the slick, sickening way parts of his shirt stuck pressed against his skin told him it would be a bad idea.

"Harry, please!" John coughed raggedly, giving him a jolting shake. "We don't have time, we're trapped in here!"

Harry frowned, peering under John's head to survey the fire. It reached from one end of the room to the other, effectively cutting the basement in half with flames too high and bright to jump through or over. And they were on the opposite side of the exit.

So this is what happened when an unwelcome wizard stayed in the bed and breakfast after the first fire.

"T-trapped." He agreed hoarsely. Fear trickling into his stunned system. He left his runic material in his bedroom and the floor was cement, so there was no way he could make a ring of fire repellant glyphs to pull John into. His wand was still under his pillow as well, so he couldn't douse the flames like he had before.

" _Help!_ " John shouted loudly, his voice sounded raspy and painful. "Misao! Jou! We're trapped!  _Fire!_ "

Harry doubted they would hear him if they hadn't heard the deafening roar of the fire yet, and even if they did hear the fire, there's no way they could hear voices over it. No one knew where they were, it was the middle of the night, and they were on their own.

"Jo-ohn, you're wasting your breath." Harry chided, watching in concern as John sucked in several wheezy breaths of air after shouting.

The oxygen was dropping fast in the basement, and every inch of space was choked with ash and smoke.

"What else can we d-do!" John cried, dragging the both of them further away from the fire. He must've been doing that while Harry had been unconscious, he didn't even seem to register that Harry could limp away too now. It also didn't escape him that they were rapidly running out of room to retreat.

Harry blinked, his head was pounding and he wasn't sure if it had been hurting this entire time and he just hadn't noticed over his other hurts, or if it started right that instance. He felt fuzzy and weak, but he couldn't abandon John like this. John was hurting and scared. Harry needed to help.

"Harry? Harry, stay awake! You have to stay awake" John shook him again, until Harry lifted his eyes and stared up at red-ringed blue.

"John." He coughed, using his good hand to wrap around the priest and tug him flush against his chest.

"Wha- Harry? No! We can't give up! Let go! We can still make it!" John protested, struggling to get out of his grip.

Harry grit his teeth against the pain of glancing blows to his scattered burns and wrapped his other arm around too, hand carefully unclenched.

"John, close your eyes." He hissed, head swimming but heart steady. Harry knew what he had to do.

"Harry  _no_. Let me try a little longer, we still have time!  _Misao! Someone, anybody! Hel-_!" Harry pressed his unburnt palm against the priest's mouth and sucked in a breath of strength. He needed to stay awake for this.

"Hold y-your breath and count to three." He instructed, crushing John against him to keep him from wiggling out of reach.

"One, two...three."

And he apparated with a muggle.

* * *

As soon as Harry landed, he gathered himself up on shivery, sore limbs and stumbled to his bed. John was sucking in air desperately, coughing and gagging and panting all at once and sounding completely miserable.

"You're fine, John. Breathe." Harry rasped between his own coughs. He couldn't care for John right then, so he would have to hope the priest calmed down on his own.

In the meantime, Harry grabbed his wand and limped out the door and to the locked dumbwaiter panel.

He pointed the wand at the lock. " _Reducto!_ " With a flash of red light a little too similar to Yoshimi's fiery explosion, the panel burst to pieces, shattering to the ground.

Harry conjured a large tub and filled it with water while smoke from the basement began to rise from the newly accessible dumbwaiter shaft. Once it was filled, he turned his wand back to the opening and let himself cough for a few moments before sucking in enough fresh oxygen to rid himself of spotty vision.

" _Accio Yoshimi Hata's remains!_ " He cried, and bits of hair, dust, and bone flew from the dumbwaiter and into the tub of water. It took a while for all the tiniest of particles and wedged bones to come loose and all that was left was the skull tangled up in chains.

It must've been caught tight because he had to wait several minutes before the sound of metal shrieking came from the shaft and a burning skull wrapped in quickly warping steel flew toward him like a demonic fury.

He flung the skull into the tub as well, and the fire was doused, sending bubbles of boiling hot water to the surface.

Harry sagged against the wall and pointed his wand one last time to the shaft. " _Aguamenti!_ " And he waited for almost a full minute before canceling the spell, hopefully soaking everything in the basement until not a single spark could remain.

Finally finished, Harry barely remembered to pocket his wand before toddling back over to John, who had thrown up and was now lying huddled on the ground.

Worry thumped hard against Harry's chest, and he fell onto his knees to get a better look at his friend.

"John?" He asked softly, pushing sweat-soaked locks out of the priest's face. "Are you okay?"

John opened his eyes to stare blankly at Harry, breath a deep wheeze in his chest. "I-I don't know- I…" He sounded so lost and confused, Harry would've sighed if he didn't think it would send him into another coughing fit.

"I know." He comforted a little uncertainly, rubbing John's back to assist his breathing. "It's fine, we're both okay. I'll explain everything to you." He promised, hoping to wipe away the fear still in his eyes.

"But first, do you want to bless Yoshimi's remains? I've gathered them up and once you do, I d-don't think she'll be able to hurt anyone ever again."

John followed his gaze, eyes a little clearer, to rest on the boiling tub of water in the center of the hallway. He chewed on his lip and pressed a shaking hand against his rosary.

"H-how? We were...we were in the basement-" He began, but Harry shushed him.

"I know, you're right. But we'll deal with that later. I don't know if Yoshimi can get the water hot enough to make it turn to steam or simply melt out of the tub, so we have to be quick."

John blinked a little listlessly, but thankfully trusted Harry enough to follow his no doubt bizarre instructions.

He climbed to his feet with all the grace of a newborn deer, and Harry led him to the rim of the tub, carefully having him sit so he didn't accidentally fall in. Then Harry joined him, because standing was getting harder and harder to do.

John whispered his prayer in a painfully raw voice, filled with coughing stutters and breathless gasps, but when he placed his rosary in the water and onto Yoshimi's skull, it burnt a black mark into the yellow bone and the water abruptly stopped boiling.

John did it, he exorcised the spirit. The bed and breakfast was free of Yoshimi Hata's ghost.

The air actually felt a little lighter, and a quick check on his two surviving glyphs told him the 'three' spirits were gone as well. She had finally moved on and away from what sounded like a life hellish enough to fit her favoured attack.

Harry let all his breath out in a whoosh and dearly paid for it when he couldn't beat back an aching, vicious coughing fit. He ended up sinking to the floor, gasping like a fish and desperate to keep awake.

John was too tired to anything except rub his chest like Harry had with his back, and eventually the hacking tapered off into silence.

"What happened?" John asked finally, shifting to stare at Harry in total confusion. "D-did I black out?"

Harry shook his head, almost a little glad he was so beaten and exhausted. It was hard to feel stressed when he'd already been attacked by a vengeful squib's spirit and locked in a burning basement. The smoke in his head made it hard to focus on the consequences of his actions right then, and he appreciated it.

"You didn't black out, I apparated us out of t-the basement." He said bluntly.  
"Apparate?" John echoed.

"It's like teleportation. I willed u-us into our bedroom, it's something I can do."

"Oh." John said, sounding as though Harry had whacked him over the head with a frying pan. "I-I had no idea Runemasters can do that."

Harry gave a weak chuckle and pulled his wand from his pocket. "Not Runemasters, wizards. People born with magical powers, I'm both those things." He gave a halfhearted wave and let his wand light with glittering sparkles.

John stared, mouth hanging open at the sparkling wand. But there still wasn't a connection being made, Harry could see it in his distant eyes. "I-I don't understand."

"You're not supposed to, it's supposed to be a secret." Harry explained. "It's sort of like psychic abilities. People are born with them, it's a power. But it's...not psychic." God, he was so tired.

"Not like witchcraft, surely."

Harry shook his head, shutting his eyes against the wave of vertigo he gave himself. "Nothing like the biblical sense. J-just a power that we're not allowed to tell people about, plenty are Christians actually."

"I...see...How odd." John still sounded dazed, but Harry had yet to find anything but shock and exhaustion, it was confusing.

Harry peeked an eye open and studied John's slack expression. The priest looked just as tired as Harry felt. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He couldn't help asking.

"I'm...too tired." John sighed, slumping to the floor next to Harry as though his spine had turned to jelly. "We should probably be calling an ambulance."

"But besides that," He continued. "I'm an exorcist, it's my job to explore things rarely discussed in the Holy Bible. I just saw the remains of an old woman try to set me on fire- send  _you_  into a table. I'm...a little too shaken already."

Harry gave a gravelly hum, patting the priest's shoulder with his good hand before letting it flop somewhere between them.

"I like you, John." He murmured tiredly. Later he might freak out about this, but for now he'd bask in how kind and accepting John was. How many priests would be nearly this calm about magic, even while debilitated? Quite a few would've probably tried to drown him in the tub by now if Vernon's warnings held any weight.

"Heh, I like you too." John huffed easily.

"Though we will be discussing this later."

Before Harry could reply, John raised a leg and gave Suguro and Hiruma's door a shattering kick.

"Call an ambulance." He called softly, giving another loud kick before dropping his leg and shutting his eyes with a groan.

Hiruma threw open the door, sleepy and tousled still. It was hard to fight back a wave of resentment. They hadn't heard a thing while sleeping directly on top of the basement. If nothing else, they  _better_  install fire alarms before guests arrive again. Their heavy sleeping was frankly unsafe.

"Oh my  _God_!" Hiruma screeched upon laying eyes on Harry and John strewn across the hallway and a tub of water holding the gruesome remains of a former homeowner. She turned as white as a sheet and ran back into her room to give Suguro what might've been a wake-up kick of her own before snatching her cell phone and running back outside.

"Hold on you two, I'm calling an ambulance! Please be- is that a  _body_? What happened? Oh my God, oh my God." Hiruma cried, hopping back and forth like she wished she could sprout wings and fly away. Harry was too tired to calm her down and it seemed John was too, both of them remained quiet.

Suguro plucked the phone from her hand and explained Harry and John's state to the dispatcher in a slow, steady voice. He wasn't unaffected, though, his eyes were transfixed on the tub and he was steadily turning green as time went on.

"I-is that...r-real?" Hiruma stammered fearfully, turned to face away from the tub.

"That is Yoshimi Hata." John confirmed, drawing a horrified squeak from Hiruma.

"She fell down the dumbwaiter and Izuhara decided to was too much of a h-hassle to open up the walls for her remains. She was just sealed off." Harry croaked, shutting his eyes again.

"I-is she... _still here_?" Hiruma demanded shrilly, while Suguro hung up.

"An ambulance will be here in ten minutes. How are you guys? Nothing bleeding out or anything right?" Suguro asked quietly, terror a subtle note in his voice.

"I-I'm fine. I don't want to move until I have to." John moaned. "Harry?"

"M'good."

"And Yoshimi is no longer haunting this place, Misao. I exorcised her remains directly. It was a success." John breathed and Harry didn't hear the rest, he finally passed out and into the much kinder arms of Morpheus.

* * *

**So how was that reveal? Not gonna lie, I'm honestly pretty proud of myself for making this case from scratch.**

**And that was what was up with John! He was just super uncomfortable that one of his friends obviously isn't**   **coping too well with 'the trauma'. Don't know if his little heart-to-heart was the best way to go...but I knew if John was ever going to have a serious discussion with someone, it would sound pretty sappy and uncomfortably sincere. He's just too sweet.**

**And of**   **course he'd notice. Harry's not as sly as he thinks and John's a lot more sensitive than, say, Mai. (To people being troubled, not spiritually or anything. Mai's the scent hound of the group on that front.)**

**Sorry, this note is all over the place. I'm tired.**

**You all knew I was gonna reveal the yer-a-wizard-Harry bomb on John sooner or later, but I'm surprised at how many people thought he'd be in the know. Idk, maybe it's a vibe you all picked up, but I didn't get it. That's not to say there aren't other people who are in the know…**

**I know that particular reveal might've come off as flat, so hear me out. John is a Catholic priest who works with a priestess and a monk regularly, compliments their pagan rituals, and battled a literal pagan god in the last case of the anime. Lin has spirit animal demon servants! John doesn't say a word about it.**

**So I consider him an extremely chill Catholic who is very open minded. Magic exists? There'll be a freak out (and there's a freak out in the midst), but it's not gonna be a bible-thumping tantrum or right in the middle of an emergency like a basement burning fire-ghost. And no matter what, he's certainly not gonna ditch his bro who just saved his life again, even if things go badly.**

**Anyways that's it for now! Thank you so much for being awesome readers and I really appreciate all the wonderful reviews I've received!**

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SIDE FILE 1

**Yikes, this chapter took forever! I was all set to wrap it up on a slow twenty-five pages just in time for Halloween when I remembered that John would probably want to know more about the wizarding world and ended up making this monstrosity instead. A good lesson in the importance of keeping things brief- which I am apparently incapable of.**

**Oh, on a separate note, I'm sure you guys have noticed weird repeating lines and awkwardly set paragraphs in all of my works. I proof the crap out of this stuff before publishing it, but this site messes it up! It's seriously infuriating, I can edit it as carefully as possible in that copy/paste window that's glitchy as hell and something will still be messed up when I republish it!**

**So, if a glitch is really distracting just tell me about it, because I can't catch them all and at this point I don't want to.**

**Anyways, this is officially the last chapter of my minicase. After this we're going to the second case in the series, one of my favorites! If you have any requests or suggestions feel free to leave them in a review!**

* * *

Harry slept feverishly, shadows danced behind his eyes and unintelligible whispers brushed his ears.

He never truly woke up, exhaustion weighed his conscious down like a stone and all he had were flashes of light and sound when he rose close enough to the surface.

Instead, he lay in a daze just as he had in John's arms how many hours ago, letting time slip by passively.

When Harry did finally wake, it was with the same sluggishness. He collected himself first, plucking up scattered recollections and piecing them back together at his leisure until he eventually sorted through the utter chaos of his case's final night. He barely twitched upon returning to consciousness, just let his eyes flicker open to take in his surroundings.

He had expected the hospital room, the burning ache that flared terribly bright around his hands and faded to sparks down his torso had already given him notice of how injured he remained. But he hadn't expected the face peering down at him.

"Ah," Hermione said smugly, "I knew you would wake up soon, the nurses thought for sure it would take another day."

"You...what?" Harry croaked, mouth filled with ash and throat scratchy.

Hermione pressed a cup of water to his lips, hand already placed lightly on his chest to stop him from rising to drink.

Harry rolled his eyes but let her worry in her own way, sipping the wonderfully cool water and letting it roll down his throat like rain in the desert.

When he was done, she placed it back on a stand and gave him a critical once-over. "Now before anything else, are you in a great deal of pain?"

Harry gave a raspy huff of laughter. "I'm fine, nothing hurts worse than it should."

Hermione hummed skeptically and pressed a button by his bed. Harry watched, not truly concerned. She would never harm him, but he hadn't even noticed the button before, and it was so intrinsically woven into his medical equipment that he couldn't find the source.

A rush of near drunken warmth flooded his system and placed a great deal of fuzzy distance between Harry and his pain. He felt a previously unnoticed tension seep from his bones, leaving him pliant on the cot.

Harry sighed, so that was the button for painkillers.

"That's what I thought." Hermione sniffed and absently smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt.

"Now that you're settled in, it's time for why I've come." Harry shrank away as her hair seemed to crackle with static charge and her shoulders hunched aggressively forward.

His fear was heightened when she cast a wandless silencing charm across his cot, her brown eyes electric all the while.

"Harry James Potter!" She fumed, suddenly towering over his bed-bound form. Harry didn't doubt for a second that if he threw himself off the bed she would merely levitate him back on and tear into him over worsening his injuries as well.

"If you were anyone else I would suspect you were  _trying_  to find the most difficult, agonizing,  _convoluted_  way to break the law! Do you realize just how much foreign affairs I've had to deal with in the past twenty-four hours? You managed to get three entire ministries caught up in a single crime! And one of them is  _Japan's_ , perhaps the most uncooperative ministry in existence!"

Harry opened his mouth to say...anything, really, so long as it calmed her down- but Hermione didn't give him the chance.

"If you were anyone else on Earth you would be covered in so much red tape that you'd die in a Japanese jail cell before your case even got to the right court, so count your  _bloody_ lucky stars!"

"I-Is this about the muggle thing? Because I-"

Hermione made a noise of absolute despair and threw up her hands. "An English wizard who told an Australian muggle about magic in Japan! The Australian secretary literally threw your file at me as soon as I floo-ed in, he wanted nothing to do with it!"

"But I-"

"Oh Merlin, the  _signatures_. I had to get so many ambassadors to sign forms just to make it legal for them to sign  _more_  forms and-"

"I'm not going to apologize, Hermione, it was to save his life." Harry snapped, his voice growlier than he intended with his scratchy throat.

Hermione finally stopped talking, drawing back abruptly.

She flapped about for a moment, opening and closing her mouth, a thousand different things clearly fighting to come out. Finally, she grimaced and reached to pat his leg. "I know you did, I didn't mean- I wasn't- I'm just trying to get you to understand that what you did was dangerous."

Harry remained unmoved. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, he's my friend."

Hermione sighed. "I don't doubt it. But I'm your friend too. And as your friend, I'm telling you to be more careful. At least be conscious next time you get yourself into international politics so I'll get a heads up."

Harry stared her for a moment, not entirely convinced she felt John had been worth his trouble. However, Hermione had been the one to clean it all up and had gone all the way to Japan to check up on him, so he begrudgingly let it go and allowed a sheepish smile to curl on his face.

"I'll try not to, but you'll have to take it up with the squib poltergeists out to get me."

Hermione straightened, eyes alight. "Your case involved a squib ghost? Did you see it? How did it behave? Was it similar to wizarding ghosts or was it just like muggle ghosts? Because I just read this fascinating study where muggle ghosts were found to be much more-"

"I only saw the ghost once." Harry cut in loudly. "She wasn't like a magical ghost at all, could hardly speak let alone behave like a normal person. She didn't look like a muggle ghost either, she was all…" Waifish, distorted, vicious… "she didn't look human."

Hermione looked put out by his less than colorful words, but he must've looked worse than he thought since she didn't pursue it. "Well, next time you come home be sure to visit and let me put some of those memories in my pensieve. It can be my Christmas gift."

Harry laughed. "I'd give it to you anyways, I always do. The Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic deserves more than an old memory for Christmas, what would the press say?"

Harry didn't miss the prideful tilt of her chin, splotchy with the red spilling over her cheeks. Before she could gather something modest to say, however, there was a polite rap against the door.

Hermione swiftly dispelled the silencing charm as a nurse bustled into the room.

"Oh, Mr. Potter! I didn't expect to see you up until tomorrow!" He cried and hurried to check his charts and vitals.

Harry rolled his eyes over Hermione's triumphant huff, some things never changed.

The nurse didn't catch the exchange and began explaining his charts and treatments in a gentle tone that would've no doubt greatly soothed someone who wasn't used to waking up in hospital beds.

It was mid-afternoon the following day, and Harry had second-degree burns on his hands and arms, and first degree burns littering his chest and face. There were also bruises on his back from his rough landing after Yoshimi's explosion and a moderate case of smoke inhalation that was being carefully monitored. Because of the smoke inhalation, he would be kept overnight for further observation but the nurse assured him he had responded well to oxygen the first night and the air humidifier placed in his room.

Harry nodded patiently through the entire spiel, not asking many questions and allowing the nurse to believe it was his sore throat. In truth, Harry was already planning to make a quick trip to a Japanese magical market apothecary upon release. A good burn cream and a potion or two should cut his recovery time in half twice over.

"And what about John Brown? The other foreigner who was with me when I was admitted?" Harry asked once the nurse had run out of things to prescribe him.

The nurse blinked and glanced at Hermione before answering. "I'm unable to disclose another patient's information, but he's recovering nicely."

"Do you know where he was put?" Harry asked.

The nurse blinked again, and Harry was growing rather irritated with the abruptly slow responses.  
"He's only just woken up." Hermione piped over his shoulder, "Don't worry, he's just groggy."

To Harry's utter bewilderment, this drew an amused grin from the nurse who looked him over indulgently.

"I see, well don't worry Mr. Potter. Your friend insisted to be placed quite close by. And because we would save on humidifiers…" The nurse gestured to something on the other side of the room.

Harry followed the motion, shifting gingerly to peek past Hermione. She scooted obligingly over to give him a better look at what was behind her chair.

There was John, fast asleep on the other hospital bed. His curtain had been yanked away and his blanket only covered half his scrubs with the way he's spread himself in a wild disarray of limbs. His blond hair was scrubbed clean of soot and in a tangled mop of cowlicks. Small bandages and burns dotted his skin.

"He woke up earlier for lunch so I'm not sure you'll hear from him again tonight. But if all goes well you two will be discharged together."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Though there was a slight wheeze in John's breath, he looked world's better than he had collapsed in front of Yoshimi's boiling remains.

The nurse bid him goodbye soon afterward and Harry slumped back against his pillows with a hiss.

It took a minute to blink his eyes back open, his extremities felt a little numb.

"You never told me what the verdict was after saving me from international prison." He murmured, licking his dry lips.

Hermione quirked a smile and brought the cup back to his mouth, giving him another cool sip of water.

"Given that the muggle is a priest and the wizard is a Chosen One, all three ministries have decided it was a special case and you made an incredibly tactical decision to reveal magic to Brown so that he may also help magical ghosts with his prodigal skills as an exorcist." She said it in such a mocking voice that Harry feared she may actually be quoting one of the ministries, but he didn't dare wonder which.

"They wouldn't have said that if I wasn't...who I am." Harry grumbled.

"Not in a million years." Hermione sang, "Good thing you're you."

Harry didn't have the energy to sink into further embarrassment, so he let it go in an agitated and slightly breathless sigh. He let his eyes fall closed again, the darkness behind his lids a relief from bright fluorescents.

"How's the Minister been treating you anyways? Everything good?"

Something tugged on his bangs, so Harry peeked up with one eye to find Hermione combing her nails through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He let his eyes fall shut and enjoyed the rhythmic massage, a quiet hum in his chest.

"You can ask me when you wake up. Now be good and follow your friend's lead." She sounded distant.

"Hmm….is this the...medication?" He mumbled suspiciously.

"Partly, just because you're so stubborn I'd doubt you'd rest without them."

"But I…"

Whatever protest was on his tongue was lost, because he fell asleep before he could finish.

* * *

When Harry next woke, it was to blinding sunshine in his face as the rising dawn blazed into his room's window.

With a hiss, he carefully extracted himself from his covers, burns searing only a few degrees cooler than when he'd received them. His hands were the worst and so he was especially careful to keep them palms-up in his lap, shiny white bandages wrapping them up like baked potatoes.

John gave a snort in his sleep, kicking his blanket completely off the bed while he did so. He made for a comical picture, but Harry couldn't bring himself to smile. Not when their last conversation had finally come back to him.

Harry watched John for a while, lip pursed and heart thudding too hard.

Hermione had protected him from the more distant consequences, but he still had to deal with the immediate ones. He still had to explain to John exactly what had happened and what he was.

It was scary just to think about, but the priest's initial reaction lead him to unwittingly hope for the best. He hadn't freaked out, he had even told Harry he liked him after learning of magic. But then he said they needed to talk, and Harry was sweating just thinking of what John wanted to say to him.

Regardless, he couldn't put it off. He'd agreed to tell John and his friend deserved the truth over an obliviate any day.

Harry had walked to his death, not out of sheer courage, but out of a dread sense of responsibility. He drudged it up then, letting it sit on his chest like a cold weight to crush his panic

A quick glance at the mounted clock told him it was still rather early, so they wouldn't be discharged for a few more hours.

Harry sucked in a breath and held it until his lungs began to protest, might as well get it over with while they were alone.

Harry couldn't use wandless magic the way Hermione could, but she'd known that. Peeking over his bed, Harry found his satchel packed and waiting for him. He hadn't brought it, and he doubted either of the bed and breakfast hosts would've remembered it, so Hermione must've thought ahead and tracked it down for him.

He slowly pulled his wand free of the bag, his hand hurt just curling around the handle so he kept it in the loosest grip possible. He silenced the door in a single flick, feeling a little more settled with his holly wand on his lap. However, it felt like he was gripping the sharp end of a heated knife just holding the wand, so he let it drop onto the covers just close enough to draw in a heartbeat should anything happen.

With one more quick glance at the clock, he took the plunge.

"John." He called. "John, wake up."

John continued to snore, drooling a wet spot on his pillow.

"John! John Brown!"

John kicked in his sleep, snore catching obnoxiously in his throat.

Harry picked up one of his pillows and flung it at John, catching him in the face.

John gave a surprised shout, throwing himself upright only to whip about in hazy confusion.

"Are you finally awake?" Harry asked a little exasperatedly. Honestly, even Ron was a more graceful riser than the priest.

"Wha...What? Something attacked me." John mumbled dazedly, before his wide blue eyes finally focused on Harry's face. They sharpened with returning clarity.

"Harry! You're awake!"

Harry smiled at the warm announcement. "I woke up after you fell asleep yesterday. How are you feeling?"

John resumed his search. "My throat aches something fierce and I won't say no to a weekend off, but my nose hurts now. It didn't before, I'm sure. Something hit me while I was…"

He finally looked down and spotted the offending pillow.

Harry gave a laugh when John's face twisted in incredulity.

"You threw a pillow at me!" He accused.

Harry snickered. "It was the only way to wake you, I thought priests were supposed to be early risers! You sleep like the dead!"

John flushed. "Priests are allowed to use alarm clocks too, besides you're just soft-spoken."

Harry quirked a brow, now that's something he'd never been called before. "Soft-spoken, huh?"

John nodded firmly. "Definitely. Most people shout when they're scared or angry, you just get quieter. I imagine it's good for intimidation."

Harry snorted. "You just haven't seen me angry, no one is soft-spoken then."

John waved his hand as though brushing his words out of the air. "Yes, yes, I'm sure. Now, what was so important that you saw fit to bludgeon me as I lay defenseless here in this bed?"

Harry's smile froze, his wand a very noticeable weight on his lap. He stared down at it for a moment, floundering over how to begin.

"I, er, I just- You wanted to talk. About me….about what happened."

John didn't speak for a moment, Harry could feel his gaze even as he dared not look up.

"Right, that thing you did. You called it...Appear-ating?"

"Apparating. It's when a wizard teleports from one location to another." Harry correctly cautiously.

"A wizard...That's what you said you were." Harry couldn't detect any malice or disgust in John's voice, just the same kind of simple confusion he'd displayed that night.

"What does that mean exactly?"

Harry took in a deep breath and looked up, accidentally making eye-contact with John. The other had an increasingly familiar line between his brows, he was beginning to recognize it as concern.

"Um, a wizard -witch if it's a girl- is someone who is born with magical powers. There's a lot of us in hidden communities, we're not allowed to expose magic to muggles- those without. So you've never heard of it before."

John hummed thoughtfully. "What do you mean by magical? Like pulling a rabbit out of a hat? Or something more spiritual?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "A little of both? But so much more. There are loads of different kinds of magic. Transfiguration, where I can turn one thing into another. Charms, like creating light, curses, divination, warding...With enough power and creativity, a wizard could do about anything."

John's eyes grew, he leaned forward in bed and gripped his sheets tightly in his hands. Harry leaned away in his own bed, searching him for any sign of hostility.

"Show me?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Please? I'd love to see you do a spell!"

Harry nodded before he really registered what he'd done, and picked up his wand in a ginger hold.

He eyed his fallen pillow for a moment before deciding what spell he wanted to show John.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " With a swish and flick that was more muscle memory than thought, he levitated his pillow above John's head, letting it hover in his grasp.

John gasped, something Harry dared to hope was wonder on his face. Tentatively, the priest reached out and touched the pillow, which bobbed merrily with the motion.

"That's incredible." John announced, looking back to Harry. "So you've done magic like this during our case? When?"

Harry let the pillow drop to the floor so that he didn't have to hold his wand anymore, thinking back to the bed and breakfast case.

"I don't like to use magic during non-magical cases, so I didn't do much. I used magic to douse the fire in our hallway that first night, and then again for the basement fire. And of course, you know about when I apparated...oh, and I conjured the bin and water you exorcised Yoshimi Hata in."

John grinned. "So that's how you got water on the ceiling! I figured you must've somehow used the bathroom sink, but I had no idea how you got so much water out in so little time!"

Harry hummed neutrally, he wasn't sure what to do with John's easy going response.

"Er, any other questions?"

"Why do you keep it a secret? You said it was something like psychic powers and loads of psychics make public livings off of their talents, like Masako Hara. Why bother keeping it to yourself?"

Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, there was more than one reason. But how to articulate it? Could he do it without frightening John? "Not every spell is...harmless. There are a lot that are just meant to hurt others, and muggles don't have any defenses for it. So it's easy to get scared, that's how the witch trials started. After that, we made it a law not to reveal ourselves so there wouldn't be any more angry mobs. That's the biggest reason, anyway. Now, I know there's a new fear about the muggles using their greater numbers against us, but no one's in any hurry to see if that could really happen."

John was quiet again, looking thoughtful. "How could a spell hurt someone? Do you mean like a curse? I wonder if I've ever unknowingly dealt with a wizard's curse."

Harry shook his head. "It's different, barely any field of magic deals with ghosts. When I mean curse, I mean...like there's a curse that can break your bones, and there's one that slashes deeply, and one that feels like knives stabbing into every inch of skin."

He felt a little ill at John's horror, hastily continuing. "Of course most of it is illegal! We have laws too. And prisons and courts, no one is allowed to hurt people like that anymore. And the wizarding world's medicine has a lot to offer too!"

When John remained silent, Harry continued rambling. "That reminds me, I'm going to a wizarding apothecary to get my burns looked over so I can heal faster. A lot of potions are too much on a muggle's system, but there are low-grade salves I can get you so that your burns heal quickly as well."

"Harry-"

"Do you not want to? I completely understand, but what about scar-reducers? I can ask a potion master for the best option for you if you want?"

"Harry,"

"Not that I think scars are ugly! If you don't need any scar-reducers, no harm done. They're a pain to apply constantly, anyways. But what about painkillers? Burns are pretty painful as far as injuries go, and-"

"Harry, let me speak!"

Harry nearly fell off the bed, his breathing choppy. He was so stupid! Why did he bring up a curse like the Cruciatus? Why use one of the very worst spells as one of his first examples? Just because Harry saw them far more than the average wizard didn't mean John would even see a similarly colored spell in his life!

And now he had babbled like an idiot just to stuff those words as far back in their conversation as possible. Merlin, Hagrid did a better job introducing magic then he did. At least he didn't describe an Unforgivable right off the bat.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you could give me a salve for my wounds, I agree that they do hurt badly for such small burns." John spoke gently, his voice like a cool hand on Harry's burning face.

"Y-you do?" Harry dared ask, settling back into his bed as the high ringing he hadn't noticed before began to ebb.

John nodded, an excited grin tugging at his cheeks. "It sounds amazing. Who wouldn't want to be healed through magic? What makes a salve magic, anyways?"

"Er, the ingredients, I suppose. Things like unicorn horns and phoenix feathers. Oh, and potions are brewed in cauldrons."

John oohed childishly. "Did you say unicorn? Are unicorns real? Truly?"

Harry cracked a wobbly smile of his own, he remembered being similarly awed by his first encounters with magical creatures. "Truly, they're a sight to see if you have the patience to get one to approach. All sorts of magical creatures are real, I know a bloke who works on a dragon reserve in Romania."

"Dragons are real." John echoed wistfully. "When I was four, I wanted to be a dragon."

Harry laughed at that. "When I was four, I wanted to be a spider."

John quirked his head. "A spider? How unique, did you like how they spun webs?"

"Something like that. But moving on, if you do want to use a magical salve to heal quicker I'll be going to an apothecary as soon as I'm discharged. Muggles aren't normally allowed, but you're an exception if you'd like to come along."

John spun and planted his feet on the floor like he was prepared to go in his scrubs. "I would love to go with you! A magical shop...I suppose a secret community needs one of those."

All at once, he paused. His smile twisted into something nervous and hesitant. "You wouldn't get in trouble bringing me along, though? How am I an exception?"

"The...well, the Japanese, the Australian, and the British ministries of magic all know about you now. They were notified the moment I apparated with you so that a squad of aurors could be sent out to wipe your memories and arrest me for breaking the law. Thankfully, a friend of mine came to our rescue and cleared you on account of you being a useful exorcist."

John's eyes were impossibly round as he mouthed what Harry had just said to himself. Harry gave him a moment to process, it was rather startling to realize your country held a government you weren't allowed to know of before.

"I...had no idea punishments could be carried out so swiftly. How do- how can you use magic to erase my memories?" He asked seriously.

Harry gestured toward his wand. "There's a spell that erases memories, it's easy to mess up but only the most talented are allowed to do it, and it doesn't hurt."

John stared at Harry's holly wand for a while, the sparkle of wonder dimming in his eyes. However he didn't stay down for long, and soon peeled himself away.

"Who was your friend? I would like to thank them personally for standing up for the both of us." He still looked nervous but he said nothing of canceling their trip to the magical market.

"Her name's Hermione Granger, she'll probably be here later since she visited yesterday afternoon"

To Harry's utter bewilderment, John's eyes lit with recognition.

"Hermione! You've spoken of her before. I had wondered what happened to her, it's wonderful to know you both remained in touch."

Harry cocked his head. "I don't remember ever bringing her up, when was this?"

"During that schoolhouse case, when you got a concussion and thought you were still home...less…" He trailed off uncomfortably. "Ah, I'm sorry. I suppose you wouldn't remember talking about her."

Harry flushed at the reminder of his embarrassing injury, and flushed even darker when he remembered John's heartfelt talk about what he believed had been a run-away situation.

"Um, yeah she was with me. But we weren't truly homeless or anything, just…"  _On the run. Being hunted. In hiding._ He didn't know what to say next. "The tent was a temporary thing."

John held his hands out in surrender. "I'm not here to judge you or pressure you to say anything," He said sympathetically. "Just know I'm here for you if you'd like to talk about it."

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Why don't we get back on topic. Is there anything else you'd like to ask about my being a wizard?"

John thought for a moment. "Why be a runemaster? Why work for...erm, muggles? Isn't that boring when you could be around dragons?"

Harry was already shaking his head. "Not at all. I love being a runemaster, working for both magical and non-magical clients has allowed me to see so many different and new things I would've never seen if I'd become an auror or something. I like what I do and I like to travel, you couldn't have  _paid_  me to stay back home."

John didn't look like he quite understood, but nodded acceptingly nonetheless. "So, being a wizard is a genetic trait? If it's a whole community, can you inherit magic?"

Harry hummed affirmatively. "It's passed down, yes. Though there are wizards who come from muggle families, they're called Muggleborns. And every now and then a Pureblood family- I mean a family with parents who are wizards whose own parents are wizards- a child is born without magic. Those are called squibs."

To John's credit, he was following along nicely. "What happens to parents if they don't have magic? Surely they don't have their memory wiped or something?"

"No, they're exceptions too. Usually a professor from a magical school visits to explain everything, or so I've heard."

John gasped. "You have schools too? As in schools specifically to teach magic?"

"Yeah, the standard length of magical education is from eleven to seventeen, though it varies from ministry to ministry. At that time, children are pulled out of the public education system and graduate in the magical community instead."

Harry glanced at John slyly. "So it's common for wizards to look like high school dropouts looking only at non-magical records."

It took John all of ten seconds to grasp his meaning and actually bounced to his feet in excitement. "The guests during the fires! They were wizards!"

Harry happily confirmed. "The ghost Yoshimi Hata was attacking wizards, that's why the fires were so sporadic."  
"But why? You said these wizards aren't related to satanic witchcraft, so what could she have against them?" Harry wasn't sure if he should correct that statement. The Bible was absolutely talking about magical witches and wizards, but it was incorrect in linking them to devil worship. He decided to leave it up to semantics.

"That confused me too. But when Yoshimi blasted me into, whatever that was-"

"A table." John supplied.

"Yeah, a table, she possessed me after that and told me it was because she was a squib who forbid wizards from coming into her home. I think her parents abused her for being a squib, she admitted to killing them and tried to kill me too. She also referred to us as demons."

John stared.

Harry stared back, unsure.

"You were possessed and attacked by a ghost who admitted to murder and called you a demon, and you didn't think it was worth bringing up before this?"

Harry waved it off. "Wasn't really worth talking about, I dodged most of the hits and you exorcised her remains almost immediately afterward. There wasn't a lot of time for pointless conversation while the basement was on fire, you know? Anyways, that's why she hated wiza-"

"Oh no, you don't." John interrupted disapprovingly, tugging his rosary off his neck and approaching Harry's bed.

"What? What happened?" Harry scooted away, dodging the rosary.

"You've dealt with ghosts before, you should know better than this." He scolded. "Yoshimi was powerful enough to build a connection with you if she wanted, especially after being driven out of her corpse. If nothing else, this could leave you open to more possessions later."

He finally forced the rosary over Harry's head while he spluttered denials. "Now hold still! You're lucky I've memorized the right blessings, I left my bible at the bed and breakfast."

And so Harry found the rest of his morning eaten up under John's condemning gaze and half a dozen different prayers.

* * *

Sure enough, Hermione returned upon their discharge, dressed and ready to follow him straight to the closest Japanese wizarding marketplace.

"We need to stop at the Eastern Manor Bed and Breakfast for John's things first, if you don't mind." Harry brought up first, gesturing to poor John who had nothing to change into except for his soot-stained and partially burnt pajamas.

"Oh, right. I completely forgot about your clothes." Hermione admitted sheepishly.

"No worries, mate! So you're Miss Hermione?"

"Just Hermione is fine, and yes. You're John Brown, of course." It wasn't a question, she probably knew more about him than Harry did after cleaning up his case.

John still bobbed his head enthusiastically. "I am! Thanks so much for helping Harry and me out when he broke the rules to save us! From what I understand, you're the only reason I can remember it at all!"

Hermione smiled, that glimmer of pride she had been quietly polishing since becoming Under Secretary shining through. "No need for that, Harry's my friend so of course I'd help him."

John laughed. "He does seem to be rather prone to trouble, Harry's quite lucky to have so many friends willing to help."

Hermione laughed louder than John. "Oh, you have no idea! We spent our school years together and he's always jumped from mess to another"

"I'm sure I have an inkling by now, this is the second time he's wound up needing medical attention in as many cases." John nudged Harry playfully.

"Trouble just finds me," Harry grumbled, edging away. "Come on, our cab is here."

They all climbed into a taxi Harry had the foresight to call before being discharged, as none of them had cars and it wasn't dark enough to covertly apparate.

Oddly enough, neither of his friends chose to sit in the front with the cab driver, instead choosing to sit on either side of him in the back seat.

The trip was blessedly short and they were soon on that spacious, chipped porch once more.

Harry could smell the acrid scent of smoke and burnt wood from the door, but he could still hear Suguro and Hiruma bustling about inside.

John quickly skipped ahead and rapped on the ornate door, his own hands not bandaged mitts like Harry's.

In the span of four heartbeats, the door was thrown open and Hiruma stood, already babbling excitedly.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're okay! I was so worried about the both of you! I can't believe what happened in the basement, and with the ghost, and the  _body_ -"

"You forgot your bag, right?" Suguro cut in tersely, heavy work boots blackened with soot and a face mask dangling from one ear. It was clear he had been in the smoke-choked basement before their arrival, no doubt rifling through Izuhara's scorched belongings all morning.

Hermione gave a shallow bow of apology. "Yes, I'm afraid I completely forgot about John Brown's bag when I came here earlier for Harry's."

Hiruma stepped back and hustled them inside, her own hands were stained black as well, and there was an apron conspicuously draped across the stairway banister. "No trouble at all, I'm glad you stopped by!"

"Misao has been dying to know what happened in the basement since you left." Suguro sighed, plodding behind them.

"I was  _worried_  about them, Jou! Getting the details of what happened with the fire ghosts is hardly important when the men we hired wind up hospitalized." She snapped, setting out cups of honeyed ice tea on the coffee table centered in the front room. This didn't stop her from sending furtive looks in both Harry and John's directions.  
"You wouldn't mind telling us what happened though, would you?"

"I'm afraid we can't stay for tea, but you deserve to know what happened with the ghost that has been tormenting you for so long." John agreed, and Hermione sat herself down with an impatient twist to her smile. Hiruma followed suit, a far more gleeful gleam in her eye.

"Before going to bed that night, we believed you had three ghosts." John began. "But later, I had an epiphany. Every fire throughout the house always started on the same wall as the dumbwaiter, which would explain why Harry couldn't detect it within the confines of his glyphs."

"When John told me that, I realized that meant there was only one ghost in your house, and that explained how the spiritual energy being detected was so weak for three separate individuals, it was actually one powerful spirit." Harry continued, eagerly sipping the sweet tea to soothe the scratching ache in his throat.

John picked up the explanation just as smoothly, and it was entertaining to see Hiruma and Suguro's heads swivel back and forth between the two of them.

"We...were a little excited after that discovery. Harry remembered that Hiruma opened the basement dumbwaiter, so we both hurried down there to look for any artifact or body that could house your ghost."

"It was pretty dumb." Harry admitted.

"That could've gone very badly." John confirmed. "When Harry looked into the dumbwaiter, he confirmed that there was a body stretched out across the entire length of the shaft."

"Remember when you told me about Yoshimi Hata dying of an accident in the home? I think she fell from the top floor of the dumbwaiter and Izuhara considered it too much work to gut three levels of wall to pull her out, it was...quite gruesome." Harry stopped talking, Hiruma was looking a little green and Suguro had moved to the other side of the room, further away from the basement door.

"Just as we discovered that the fire was coming from Yoshimi and not the dumbwaiter itself Harry was blasted into a table and a fire started in the basement, the biggest and fastest yet. It quickly caught onto Izuhara's old things and the whole room caught fire."

"Oh my goodness!" Hiruma burst out. "How did you escape?"

John faltered, but Harry had already been concocting a believable lie and took over.

"When we moved the furniture around earlier that day to look for possessed artifacts, we had unintentionally created a path through her old things where there was nothing to set on fire. Once John woke me up, we made it out of the basement and started throwing buckets of water on the fire."

Suguro hummed in acknowledgment, the soggy burnt remains had no doubt been a confusing thing to wake up to.

"The bucket gave me an idea and I began dumping water down the dumbwaiter until I'd washed all of Yoshimi's bones into the basement, where John and I collected them and brought them up by our room so he could fetch his bible and exorcise the remains."

"But why put them in a tub of water? The police collected them and thought we were going to try washing and displaying her bones." Hiruma asked, her cheeks flushed with humiliation from the exchange.

"I hope you didn't get into any trouble for that." John cried. "Her remains were still on fire and it was the only way to keep from burning the hallway too."

"It's fine. The bones are older than we are, so we aren't considered suspects or anything. They just think we found them during an accidental house fire and tried to turn the body into an attraction." Suguro waved away.

"Which we would never do! Honestly, what a disgusting thing to accuse us of." Hiruma humphed, only drawing an exasperated sigh from Suguro.

"And that's that! She's been exorcised, you no longer have human remains in your home, so case solved." John announced, breaking up the rising tension.

Suguro visibly sagged in relief, a few severe lines on his forehead smoothing away. Hiruma smiled wanly, more exhaustion than celebration. No matter their lackluster reaction, it was clear the two were more than happy to finally put the fires behind them.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Why was Yoshimi starting fires in the first place? Did you figure that out?" Hiruma remembered, glancing toward Harry specifically, no doubt remembering their last conversation.

John stalled, flicking uncertain eyes to both Harry and Hermione, but neither even blinked. "She was burning the house because of your guest's religion." Harry spun.

Hiruma blinked. "Truly? Which religion?"

"Er, Christianity." That was rare enough in Japan, wasn't it?

"Ah, but isn't Father Brown a Catholic priest?" Hiruma asked in confusion.

"I am, but Harry is Christian, Protestant I mean. There's a difference. That's why we experienced fires and you didn't while living by yourselves." John cottoned on.

"Huh, wonder what she had against Christians." Suguro huffed, and Harry shrugged.

"Sadly, neither of us are mediums. So we'll never know." Hiruma looked a bit put out by that, but she didn't stay down for long.

"I guess that explains why it affected so many foreigners! Thank you so much for helping us! You've saved our home and business, we can't thank you enough." She bowed tearfully, so John gave her a pat.

"It was our pleasure, I'm glad we could help you."

"Now, the bag?" Hermione finally piped, having been completely silent throughout their visit.

"I'll go get it." Suguro trudged down the hall to where he and John had been rooming together.

Harry didn't remember sleeping away his twenty-four hours at the hospital, so it felt a bit abrupt how suddenly the case was solved and they were finished with the couple.

"Be sure to stay with us whenever you're in the area, we'll give you a room for free!" Hiruma cheered. "I can't believe it's finally finished."

With a few more bows from both hosts, Harry, the newly dressed John, and Hermione were back on their way.

Once the door was closed and they were on the sidewalk, John let out a huge breath. "Lord, please forgive me for lying to those kind folks." He prayed remorsefully up at the sky.

"It was hardly a lie, my family is Christian and so are a lot of witches and wizards. And you were only following the law." Harry comforted.

John nodded solemnly, a hand tugging at his rosary.

"Quick, no one's on this street right now. We should apparate to whatever marketplace you want to go to." Hermione glanced meaningfully at the quiet neighborhood.

John swallowed. "Um, do we have to go by that...apparating thing again? Couldn't we call a cab or even walk there?"

Harry smiled apologetically at the poor priest. "Sorry, John. The only wizarding market I know near here is still a town over. At least you know what to expect this time."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to." Hermione reminded. "You can just wait here until Harry gets muggle-grade burn cream to send you off with."

John immediately shook his head. "I want to see! I just...really don't want to apparate."

Harry understood the feeling, and gave him a sympathetic pat before looping an arm around the priest. "If it makes you feel any better, I doubt it will ever be as bad as the first time I apparated with you."

John didn't reply, which was answer enough. Hermione gently placed a hand on Harry's forearm and Harry apparated to the nearest apothecary he knew of.

Taguchi's Potions was a small shop on the corner of a quiet wizarding marketplace, run by an old man and his daughter. Harry had delighted upon discovering the shop, for besides potions, Taguchi boasted a host of ingredients and poultices that were hard to find anywhere else. It was where he'd chosen to pick up more of his pain relievers after the schoolhouse case and one of the few places near a city that sold homebrewed salves.

"Harry!" John broke his reverie. "Harry, look!"

He was pointing across the street, where a hag was selling charmed hats that switched patterns and colors at random.

"Do you...want one?" Harry hazard a guess.

"Don't be silly, Harry. Where would a muggle keep a charmed hat? He'd never be able to wear it out." Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled them both into the apothecary. "Now pick up some potions so we can finally treat your lungs before something aggravates them."

John visibly wilted under Hermione's logical words, so Harry plucked a few dragon scales from a basket to place on the counter. Muggle or no, he wasn't cruel enough to send John off with only balm as a souvenir.

"Good afternoon, sir." The old man at the counter bid cheerfully. "Will that be all?"

"Not quite, do you have anything to treat burns? And something for smoke inhalation?" Harry gestured to the bandages wrapped around his hands.

Taguchi's eyes widened and he ducked into the storage without another word, mumbling thoughtfully under his breath.

"And if you have anything that is muggle-grade as well, I would appreciate it!" Harry called after him, though he didn't get a response.

"What are these for?" John asked curiously, plucking a sparkling ruby scale to admire in the light.

"Call it an early birthday present, they're dragon scales for you." He explained happily, smile widening at the look of exhilarated disbelief on the priest's face.

"But what if someone else sees them?" Hermione hissed.

Harry wasn't bothered. "He can just say they're plastic or from a novelty store. Who would believe they're real scales?"

"Oh, thank you so much!" John burst out excitedly. "I'll be sure to keep them out of sight, I promise! Real dragon scales! From a real dragon!"

"My daughter's partial to the scales as well, she likes to polish them before shelving." Taguchi greeted upon his return, dumping two tubs of salve and a bubbling potion vial on the counter next to the other scales.

"I don't have anything muggle-grade that'll fix something like smoke inhalation, but this balm will heal second-degree burns in three days without any side effects." He pointed to the lighter salve. "Apply it in the morning and before bed and you won't have nary a scar."

John nodded his thanks, appreciative, but much more interested in the red scale in his hand.

"This one is magical grade, put it on third-degree burns and it'll clear up overnight. There'll be some scars, so just keep applying every day before bed until that's gone too." He continued, pointing to Harry's salve.

"And the potion?"

"For your lungs. You can take it now, if you'd like. The only side effect is some nasty coughing fits for the first minute or so."

"How much?" Hermione asked before Harry did just that.

"Seven galleons altogether." Taguchi declared.

Hermione's brow quirked. "For two salves and a potion? I can't imagine the scales being that much more expensive."

Taguchi scowled. "Muggle-grade burn cream is finicky to brew, so it's expensive."

"Surely not that expensive, hardly any muggle-grade ingredients are difficult to come by."

"Fine. Six galleons and ten sickles, but no less. I burn through a lot of those ingredients getting it just right." Taguchi barked.

Before Hermione could haggle more, Harry jammed the correct amount into his face, having dug it out of his bag as quickly as possible. "Six Galleons and ten sickles! Can I have the scales bagged separately?"

They were shoved out the door moments later, John clutching the bag of dragon scales to his chest like a treasure while Harry sorted through the bags Hermione carried for him.

"...And here's your salve! Remember, put it on your burns twice a day in the morning and at night for three days and you'll be fine."

John pocketed the tub and dug into his own bag. "I can't thank you enough, how much do I owe you?"

Harry flushed. "You don't owe me anything, I couldn't even find something for your throat."

"Without your help, I would've had a lot more than a sore throat to contend with, I insist! How much is this balm?" John said stubbornly.

Sensing an ideal revenge, Hermione interrupted Harry before he could wave away the price. "Two-thousand one hundred and sixty yen."

"Which is hardly worth demanding repayment! Really, my wallet can handle a little pocket change." Harry snapped at Hermione. He didn't like advertising how much money his family had left him, but asking for repayment was pitiful considering how wealthy he was.

"Stop arguing, Harry. I'm perfectly able to make my own decisions, here's the money." John thrust a handful of notes out toward him, his lip pursed irritably.

Harry stiffened. He hadn't meant to offend John at all, but money was such a...sensitive topic. From being berated for his financial burden by the Dursleys, to tip-toeing around Ron and his hand-me-down robes, to being included in hundreds of wills from grateful witches and wizards whom he'd never even  _met_  after the war...It was just uncomfortable and he'd rather avoid the topic. Still, it seems he'd made a blunder anyways.

"Right, okay." He murmured awkwardly, pocketing the money in his duffel. He immediately regretted that action upon having nothing to do with his hands.

"Best take that potion now, just in case you have an allergic reaction." Hermione announced after a brief period of silence.

"But I don't have any allergies."

"That's what Ron thought right up until he had to take Skele-gro, he had hives  _everywhere_."

Harry frowned. "When did Ron need to take Skele-gro? Is he okay?"

Hermione nodded reassuringly. "It was just a few months ago chasing down a-" Her eyes darted to John. "...sympathizer. He was patched up within the day so it wasn't worth mentioning. Don't tell him I said anything, he was rather embarrassed that he needed help with his creams." She confided.

Harry dutifully kept the grin off his face, poor bloke. "It's a promise."

Hermione uncorked the potion vial and gave it to Harry, though with the way she was eyeing his wrapped hands she had half a mind to feed it to him herself.

Harry hurriedly took the vial and dumped the contents into his mouth as quickly as possible, shuddering at the slimy fish aftertaste it left in his mouth.

Hermione watched him closely, John must have taken her story to heart because he was eyeing every patch of visible skin as though Harry would turn purple at any moment.

Harry swallowed, focusing on the burning sensation of his raspy throat and the wheezy ache in every pull of his lungs. It didn't change, though, he still felt as though he were fighting off a chest cold.

"Huh, I guess it didn't-" Harry didn't finish that sentence, too busy doubled over and doing his best to hack up both lungs. It was uncontrollable, his chest heaved and he gagged violently, his lungs felt like they were going to crawl up his throat themselves.

Even the hag, from the corner of his watery vision, was peering curiously across the street at his hunched form.

Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Harry roughly mopped at his eyes and wiped the drool from his mouth as he sucked in air.

"Are you okay?" John demanded, pulling him upright.

Harry swallowed again, and this time he couldn't feel a thing past some residue breathlessness. "Yeah, yeah I'm great, actually."

Hermione remained quiet for a moment longer, studying him like an insect under a magnifying glass, before smiling happily. "That's good! It was odd to hear your voice so gravelly, you sound angry."

"Well, at least I don't sound angry anymore." Harry slanted an apologetic look toward John. "I'm sorry I couldn't find a potion you could take, though."

John laughed nervously and took a step back. "No worries, I think I actually prefer having a cough over whatever you just took."

Harry couldn't argue with that, so instead he apparated them to the closest hotel for John and parted ways with Hermione.

"Be sure not to overwork yourself." It was one of his customary goodbyes when it came to his ambitious best friend.

"I could say the same to you, and it wouldn't hurt to write more often." Was her well-worn response.

"Thanks for bailing me out again, I know it wasn't easy."

She laughed. "I've had a lot of practice over the years."

Then, Hermione turned to John. "It was nice meeting you, John. It's good to know that Harry has acquaintances here."  
John smiled. "Actually I consider us to be friends. I'm glad I met you as well. Harry only mentioned you the once, but I admit, I was very curious about you."

"How interesting." Was her only reply, and then she was gone with a sharp crack, headed for the Japanese Ministry of Magic for their international floo.

Harry tucked his apothecary bag into his duffel and looked to John. "Well, I guess I'll see you around. I'm glad we could do another case together."

John reached out and clasped his less bandaged hand between two warm palms, he gave it a delicate shake. "I'm glad as well, I rarely ever get to conduct cases with others without some rivalry. It was a wonderful change."

Harry couldn't really relate, very few spiritualists felt threatened by a Runemaster after all. But still, he appreciated the sentiment.

"I never get to work with people who know about magic excluding my clients, that was nice too."

John brightened, clutching his bag of dragon scales all the tighter. "Thank you for trusting me! Our Lord made the world a very big place, but it's amazing how little we really know about it."

John was nothing like every priest Harry feared as a child, and he wasn't sure if it was just John's uniquely kind spirit or the Dursley's own threats that made every gentle gesture so noticeable. Whatever the reason, Harry left John at the hotel with an affectionate pat and an unspoken wish to work together again soon.

It was a surprisingly calm and happy way to end such a volatile case, like water washing over Yoshimi Hata's burns.

He hoped she was at peace, wherever spirits went. From one hated child to another, he hoped she found a place where others could accept her too.

* * *

**Haka no hi:**

**Haka no hi are mysterious, supernatural fires, or kaika. They spout forth from the base of graves.**

**The cause of haka no hi is unknown. It is commonly believed to be a result of failure on the part of the grave's owner to reach enlightenment and pass on to Nirvana. The flames are thought to be residual energy from worldly attachments, or else feelings of grudge or resentment, coming from the remains interred in the grave.**

* * *

**That's right! I tied the case to some ancient Japanese lore, too!**

**John strikes me as a dragon kind of guy, I don't know about you. Also the type of person to buy crappy souvenirs from street vendors. (and definitely the type to slowly acclimate his flighty semi-abused friends into being hugged, because he's a secret hugger.)**

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! Finally got the latest chapter out!**

**A ton of stuff has kept this postponed. I had a plumbing disaster that put me on a couch for a week and then my aunt’s for more than a month. I’m still here, I’ll be finally going home in a few days. My poor bathroom was destroyed, but it’s a good thing we caught it when we did, because it’s directly attached to my bedroom and I got pretty close to having a bathtub crash through my ceiling- or so I’ve been told.**

**There was family drama too. TMI and all that. Cherish your loved ones, you guys. Related or not, the people who hold you up should be one of the most important things in your lives.**

**Also, tragically, my biggest source for my runic interpretation was taken from me! T_T**

**I followed an honest to god runemaster on his very own website, he was some weird old man who lived in the countryside somewhere in the UK and sold runic tiles and runebinds on his site. He had the BEST resources, a list of runes with their respective poems, how they work in spells or in relation to tarot cards, palm readings, elements, and even dreams. Inverses, different spellings...he had EVERYTHING.**

**But I recently checked to use it again and...it’s gone. The whole site is gone. I’m really worried he died. He had already said he was too old to make handcarved runic tiles anymore and he hadn’t interacted with his forum in a while… ugh, we lost a true niche master.**

**To put in perspective, to get a similar amount of information needed for my runes, I had to use three different websites plus Wikipedia for cross-referencing.**

**So don’t go to hard on me if I make some contradictions here or there okay? I might have to write my own lore doc to keep things straight now.**

**Thanks for getting through that whole spiel. To make it up to you, I made this one extra long!**

**Onto the chapter!**

* * *

 

It was at the height of summer when Harry got the call. The heat had reached its peak and the sweltering morning sun was already too much to bear without cooling charms.

Shibuya’s company, SPR, was undertaking a case in the Japanese countryside and requested his assistance.

Harry had agreed, curious to see what Shibuya had in mind for him. He hadn’t done much in the way of effective runology during their only case together, but still, Taniyama had sounded adamant that Harry personally joins in during their conversation over the phone.

He wasn’t sure why Taniyama was still working for Shibuya, the principal had paid them well for their service and the SPR had doubtlessly gone on more cases since then. She had to have finally reimbursed her employer, and yet there she was, sounding every bit as frustrated being Shibuya’s secretary as she had his assistant.

“We’re here.” His cab driver announced, pulling Harry from his thoughts.

Harry looked out the window to find a huge, old-fashioned mansion up the hill. It was isolated from the rest of the neighborhood, positioned far from any other home and barely visible from town amidst the tallest trees. The roof was the only part visible for most of the ride up, and even then it was almost choked into obscurity by the thick forest canopy cluttering in high above his head. 

The intense sun was just rising above the mansion, casting a black shadow all the way down to the taxi that inked everything it touched to the darkest shades.

Harry found it to be the natural opposite of the Eastern Manor bed and breakfast, traditionally designed for all that it was similarly ancient, and sprawling across its property in a way the tall and narrow city manor couldn’t. He hoped it also didn’t share the manor’s propensity for fire, his burns had only just healed.

“Thank you.” He murmured absently to the driver before he became too impatient with him, and paid the fee. He climbed out with his duffel slung over one shoulder. 

There was a pristinely swept cobblestone pathway leading up to the mansion, he followed it to a large set of double doors and a familiar van parked on a patch of gravel.

When he rapped on the door, a tall woman with short red hair greeted him.

She didn’t say anything, staring down at him with all the imperious expectation of a queen in court. 

Harry was reminded of Narcissa Malfoy and tucked away any foreboding in favor of making a cheery first move. Manners blunted the Mafloys’ fangs, they took too much pride in their fine breeding to disregard well-wielded etiquette. With luck, the same approach would work here.

“Hello, my name’s Harry Potter. I’m the runemaster Shibuya might’ve told you about?” Shibuya better have told the homeowner about him, he wouldn’t put it past the prickly ghost hunter to forget.

She arched a critical brow but let him inside. “Yes, he said a few of his colleagues would show up. I didn’t realize you would all be so young.”

It didn’t sound like a compliment.

“I’ve noticed that too.” Harry aimed for a smile, it’s not as though it isn’t strange that no one over the age of thirty was working in this woman’s house. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Shibuya collects prodigies.”

“And you would consider yourself a prodigy?” The redheaded woman led him through the deep hallways of the finely furnished mansion. From the china cabinet to the beautifully threaded rugs, it was clear he was dealing with a family of great wealth. 

“I’ve done a lot more than many people my age, but I don’t know if that says anything about my natural talent.” Harry shrugged. He practiced like a madman throughout his years at Hogwarts, ambition and recklessness going hand in hand when he took on the most ludicrous of projects. Harry had never met another runemaster who successfully created a six rune glyph set at the age of seventeen, but if it was due to his desperation or affinity was anyone’s guess.

“I see,” She still didn’t sound very impressed and halted at a closed door. “Well, my name is Kana Morishita if you need anything. Your friends are using this room as some sort of command center for all these cameras.” She shot a disdainful look at a glinting silver camera placed at the end of the hallway. 

“Is there anything else you need?” 

Harry was more than happy to let her escape, and so waved her off.  “I might have some questions for you later, but I’m fine for now.”

She gave a curt bow before stepping away. “Then I’ll leave you with the others.”

“Thanks.” Harry bobbed his head respectfully and swung the door open. 

It was a whole different atmosphere inside in comparison to the icy tension Kana Morishita gave off in waves.

“Harry, you made it!” Taniyama chirped as soon as he stuck his head into the room. 

The guest room was lined floor to ceiling with a dozen monitors and speakers, each humming busily with its own footage and recordings. Just as obstructive and monstrous as it had been in the schoolhouse, Shibuya never packed light it seemed.

Lin sat in front of one of the computers, completely engrossed in his work. He seemed completely healed from his injuries in the schoolhouse, that was good. 

Shibuya was rifling through a box of files and only glanced up once to meet his eyes before returning to his task. Harry supposed that was all he was going to get, still such a brat.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you since that creepy schoolhouse.” Taniyama continued chattily. 

“I’ve been well, Japan is one of my favorite countries to work in so I’m enjoying myself.” He shared, grinning at the way she puffed up in pride over her country. Harry wasn’t sure if having a unique set of spirits and ghosts was something to necessarily be proud of, but he wouldn’t ruin her fun. “What about you? Still a part of the SPR, I see.”

Taniyama nodded, slanting a glare Shibuya’s way that went completely ignored. “Well, having a cold-hearted narcissist for a boss gets old fast, but I’m learning so much about ghosts! It’s definitely more exciting than working at a cafe.”

“Oh, is that where you worked before?” Harry asked curiously.

“Uhuh, the manager was pretty nice but the work was boring. What about you? What did you do before being a Runemaster?”

“I became a Runemaster as soon as I left school, I’ve never been anything else.” He was very lucky in that way, most spiritualists needed a sponsor or mentor to start building a name for themselves. Harry hadn’t been given fame free of charge and it wasn’t worth what he lost, but his name still lets him do what he loves without any extra hoops to jump through.

“Oh, so you’re like Naru then. Did you hear that? You’re not the only one to start a successful career at a young age so you can stop lording it over everyone else.” She crowed at her boss.

Shibuya gave her a flat look. “If you have time to fool around and make noise, you have time to adjust camera six three inches higher. You pointed it too close to the ground.”

Harry bit back a snort at her cowed expression, every bit a scolded puppy slinking out the door. Shibuya must’ve caught it because he faced Harry next. “And you,” He tossed him a folder of papers. “Here are the details of the case so far. Read it and go start working on detection glyphs and any protection amulets that might work against this paranormal activity.”

Harry swiped it out of the air and quirked a brow. “Hello to you too. No, it was no trouble getting here on such short notice.” 

Shibuya turned right back around to resume digging through files. “If you had any troubles pulling yourself from a case, you would’ve already told me. Now get to work or go play with Mai some more.”

Harry watched the line of his shoulders for a moment, they were a little stiff. Was that jealousy or irritation? It was hard to pinpoint on such a naturally sour personality. 

Giving a sigh, he pulled up a chair and set down to start working his way through the data. It wasn’t a dense folder, but he didn’t want to miss anything important. Harry leaned in and focused.

A family of three lived in the house, owned by a man overseas. Kana Morishita was his wife, his sister Noriko also lived with them, and together they cared for his daughter Ayami from a previous marriage. A little girl in the mix, that hardly ended well.

The activity itself wasn’t particularly alarming. Opening and closing doors, knocks on walls, rattling furniture, all fairly standard. If the dates put down for the occurrences were to be believed, it was escalating though. Either way, Harry was prepared to remain skeptical even as he littered the house with runes to protect Ayami Morishita.

“I’ll just start on detection glyphs for now,” Harry told Shibuya, leaning back in his chair. “Is there anywhere, in particular, I should put one down?”

“The sitting room, the entrance, the kitchen and every bedroom,” Shibuya listed off, finishing whatever he was doing and finally making eye contact again. 

“After that, it can be at your discretion.”

“Fixed it! How does the feed look now?” Taniyama came skipping back, scowling up at the wall of screens as though they were meant to answer her. 

“It’ll do.” Shibuya stared her down, maybe a glint of amusement in his oddly blue eyes, maybe not.

While Harry was having difficulty getting a read on his almost-employer, he had no such struggle with Taniyama. He retreated out of the room right as her explosive retort hit maximum pitch and shut the door hastily behind him, the lungs on that girl.

Shibuya deserved everything he got for antagonizing her, but a sliver of pity went out to Lin. The ride up the mountain must’ve been heinous if they all went in the same van.

Harry set off for entrance room first, the closest designated room from the hallway. 

He’d only gotten a glance on his way in, now that he had the time to really look, it was an expansive space. 

The large, decorated doors led into a short, polished wooden square of flooring meant for removing shoes. At the step, the wooden flooring continued, broken only by a heavy, clearly antique rug. 

There was plenty of space to lead into either the hallway or the sitting room, with a staircase similarly decorated like the doors, pressed against the wall separating the hallway from the entrance. The walls themselves were also decorated with many fine portraits and tasteful paneling alongside wallpapers, but Harry moved on.

He plopped himself down on the rug, plush and well-cared for under his fingers, as he finally got to work. 

He would need a spiritually leaning detection glyph for this case. There was no need to keep it closer to humanity or basic detection without any possible vandals or frauds, only the chance that it was just an old house settling and playing tricks on the client’s family. This one would be geared toward seeking information and the supernatural in its entirety.

The rising failure rate of all his previous detection glyphs set his teeth on edge but he was willing to give it another shot. Hopefully, the larger set of teammates meant that even if the detection triad didn’t work, he wouldn’t be left to invent a new method during the case, he didn’t have the time and energy if he was expected to do this several times on top of crafting protection talismans.

He ran his hand thoughtfully through his premade wooden tiles, quietly forming his new set.

Sowilo would stay, a base of revelation. Then Ansuz for a sharp focus on gaining knowledge, doubling down the seeking element. And finally, to give it an edge, Eihwaz, for a specialty in death. 

He hadn’t used a set like this before, but it would hopefully give him a hint if it picked up activity even if it wasn’t centered on the cause. He didn’t want to start pasting runes to every wall now after the unpleasant realization that was Yoshimi Hata’s corpse.

Without further fanfare, he lined up his pre-charged tiles and allowed the spitting, volatile magic to press into themselves, forming a natural circle he could snap into place just so.

Sowilo first. 

_ "The Sun is ever the hope of seamen _

_ When they fare over the fishes' bath, _

_ Until the sea-steed _

_ Brings them to land." _

Ansuz second.

_ "The Mouth is the source of every speech, _

_ The mainstay of wisdom, _

_ And solace of sages, _

_ And the happiness and hope of every eorl." _

And finally, Eihwaz.

_ The yew is a tree with rough bark, _

_ hard and fast in the earth, supported by its roots, _

_ a guardian of flame and a joy upon an estate. _

The glyph sprang to life, an immediate feedback surging into his own magic, sinking itself into his head to create a direct pipeline of information. He pressed just that tiny bit further with his magic, feeding the exact focus of the glyph until it was as sharply tuned to death as a diamond-tipped needle.

It wasn’t very wide in scale, barely stretching to the corners of the room. And so his immediate reading was only of himself, no soul living or lost was unaccounted for. 

The focus on deathly traces Eihwaz gave him was a bit of a disappointment as well, with the rigid, small-scoped design, all Harry received was the knowledge that a housefly had been killed near the door an hour ago, perhaps as far into the past as it could manage.

Well, at least it worked. And at the very least he now knew for a fact that no spiritual activity had happened in the entrance area over the past hour, whatever good it did him.

There was a sudden rapping at the door behind him, loud and invasive in the silence. Harry leapt to his feet in alarm, spinning around before he even recognized the noise.

The knocking continued, obnoxiously unwavering. Harry settled himself and peeked into faceted windows framed on either side of the doors. 

There was Monk pounding impatiently on the door from the other side, unmistakable ponytail and childish frown and all. Matsuzaki stood next to him, she had been staring blankly at the door, back straight and chin high but her eyes kept flicking to the window where she must’ve seen movement.

With no hostess in sight, Harry unbolted and eased the door open for the both of them, polite smile in place. 

“Hello,”

“Harry!” Monk cried in surprise, striding right inside to give him a look over. “It’s been a while, man. I thought you’d gone back home or something.”

Harry leaned away from the scrutiny. “No, I’ve mostly been working in the city by myself. Shibuya asked me to help with this case.”

“Well that’s strange,” Matsuzaki smirked, “Shibuya has called me multiple times now, I suppose he agrees there’s no contest between a shrine maiden and a runemaster.”

“Don’t let her grandstanding fool you. She hasn’t done a single thing for a case yet.” Monk broke in before Harry could drudge up an appropriately catty reply.

“Speaking of, he’s already set up shop in one of the rooms down that hallway if you want to get the details about this case.” Harry pointed the way, eager to hand them off to his young employer.

“Thanks dude, see you later.” Monk tried to give him a pat on the back, but Harry pulled out of reach as soon as the arm was raised. 

Monk blinked, looking a bit dejected. Matsuzaki wrapped a manicured hand around his wrist and pulled them down the hallway before Harry was forced to excuse himself.

Grateful to have escaped, Harry hurried to the sitting room and pulled out his notebook.

Sitting on the couch and placing his notebook on the low coffee table before him, Harry dug out a pencil and sketched out his glyph. Sowilo, Ansuz, Eihwaz.

“I heard knocking, was someone at the door?” Came Kana Morishita’s call, interrupting him as he was about to infuse the glyph with magic.

He craned his neck over his shoulder as the clack of her heels came around the corner, she appeared moments later with an irritated purse to her lips. 

“Yes, two spiritualists Shibuya called. Buddhist monk Takigawa and a shinto shrine maiden Matsuzaki. They went to the command room if you’d like to speak with them.” 

Morishita didn’t look back toward the hallway, instead, she quirked a brow and maintained a steady gaze, her lips remained pursed.

Was she angry with him? Harry gave a hesitant smile, perhaps she was feeling invaded. “Sorry about letting them in without you. I didn’t want them to think it was the wrong house and leave, but I should’ve gone to get you.” 

“What are you doing?” She asked, completely dismissing his apology in favor of stalking into the room. Her eyes roved from his slouched posture to the rune glyph etched in lead on the coffee table. 

“Is it some sort of ritual?”

Harry looked down at the three runes, still unactivated. “Oh, well sort of. I’m a runemaster, so I’m making detection glyphs to help narrow down where a spirit might be.”

“So you think there really is a ghost here?” She slid a hand to her hip.

“I can’t say, it could be anything right now. That’s why I’m looking for any spiritual presence before making protective amulets.”

This time, both eyebrows drew up, draining some severity from her face. “Protection amulets? Have they worked against spirits before?”

Harry turned his attention back to his client, not sure where the interest was coming from. “They don’t protect against spirits themselves, but I can make them repel any physical attack a spirit might use. I used fire amulets during my last big case against a ghost that kept setting rooms on fire, for example.”

“Hm, well this is the first I’ve heard of  _ preventative _ measures, so don’t let me keep you. I’d like Ayami to have some protection as soon as possible, she insists on being alone far too often to be safe with these...occurrences going on.” She gave an imperious wave but made no move to leave the room.

Harry nodded seriously and got back to work.

Pressing his palm into the runes, he infused them with magic and carefully wove them into place. 

The air buzzed and crackled with static, heat licked at his fingertips as he patiently ran and reran his magic over each specific rune until the unruly magic clicked into place. He fed it even more magic this time, maybe it needed the extra boost to give him a longer timeline? It couldn’t hurt.

Then he pulled the finished pieces together, like separately colored, braided threads being twined together for their ultimate design. 

The detection glyph, armed with Eihwaz’s spiritual touch, rang out like a clear bell to take in the surrounding area. Harry allowed his own magic, separate and moving on its own now, to wash over him with the glyph’s readings. 

For the first time in what felt like too long, he finally gets a resounding pulse of spiritual detection. 

Triumphant smile quirking his lips, eyes fluttering shut to concentrate on the information, his joyous relief only lasts a few scant seconds before its choked out.

When the information starts, inking into his thoughts, it doesn’t stop, can’t stop. An uncontrollable torrent that won’t stop pressing into his head as it picks up signature after signature. More than he’d ever detected by far, more than he should be able to think about simultaneously all crashing into him at once.

Harry thinks he makes a noise, but he can’t hear it over - _ male spirit, child of eight years, brunet, standing by the bookshel- female spirit, three, blue-black hair, floating over the cou- female spirit, solid and recent in the corner, only ten, died of an illness, brunette- male spirit, seven at death, missing two front teeth, and right by the doo- female spirit, three years old with light eyes, trying to leave through the windo- male spirit, a little older than five, black hair, and moving fast across the carpe- male spirit, almost twelve, a birthmark on his cheek and sinking through the ceili- But they weren’t really there and moving around the house, because each and every one was tied directly to another presence, infinitely more dark and powerful. At the base of all the children ghosts was a poisonous poltergeist that reeked of rot and obsession. Far older than any other spirit in every sense, all details smeary and uncertain with age. And it was standing right  _ there _. _

“Potter!”

Harry sucked in a huge, gasping breath. Eyes flying open as he was suddenly aware of the searing emptiness in his lungs. 

There was a cold hand on his shoulder, and as Harry swallowed as much air as he possibly could, his eyes focused in on Morishita’s wide-eyed gaze.

“Can you breathe now? Were you attacked?” She was ashen with fear, all composure stripped away as she stared down at Harry as though he were about to explode.

Harry’s pants quieted, he focused on evening his breaths as slowly as possible. He shook his head, tearing his hands away from the still running glyph. 

It continued on, just waiting to be tapped in again so it could submerge him in- was that nine spirits? Ten? He hadn’t counted, he hadn’t been capable of any thoughts at all.

“I’ll go get that Shibuya.” Morishita decided, pulling away.

“N-no, I wasn’t- I’m fine.” Harry huffed out. He definitely didn’t need an audience for this. Runology was known for being volatile, especially toward its user, but it had been a long long while since one had turned on him so spectacularly

“You weren’t breathing! Those other ghost people should know it’s gotten stronger.” She scowled, looking a little more collected now that she had anger.

Harry beckoned for her to come back, resting his back against the couch as he swiped his hair out his eyes. His temple was sweaty, just how much time had passed?

“I wasn’t attacked, I’m sorry for scaring you, Mrs. Morishita,” Harry explained, “My detection glyph overwhelmed me, it was just a mistake.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” Morishita demanded, caution in her steps as she returned to his side. She didn’t go behind the coffee table, a clear threat to turn on her heel and alert the brigade if he didn’t answer her questions. 

Harry obliged.

“There are children spirits here, more than I’ve ever seen in one place. They’re all over the house but something is….the children are tied down to this room.” Harry couldn’t hold back a shudder. Too many dead children, especially for an area as quiet as this. It wasn’t a natural amount by any means, there had to be a malicious cause.

“C-children?” Morishita’s eyes darted, she took another step closer, “Why would there be dead children here? The realtor didn’t say anything about a tragedy in the home, and this room is one of the newer ones too.”

“I couldn’t tell you, it’s just a detection glyph,” Harry shrugged helplessly, “But they aren’t connected to the room itself. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s another spirit, female, I think, and she’s a part of them, maybe? Or controlling them? They’re all tied to her.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes from drawing back to where he sensed the dark spirit, so murky and smothered in the souls of children that he still wasn’t even sure it was a female spirit. Only that it had been standing so, so close. 

Morishita tracked his gaze, and whatever color she regained drained out of her in seconds. “It’s still here?” She hissed in disbelief. “Why are you still sitting there? Can’t it see us?”

“I don’t know, I’m not even sure it’s hum-” Her hand wrapped around his arm and suddenly she was hauling him right out of the room and down the hallway before he could even dig his heels in.

Morishita threw open the command door and immediately zeroed in on Shibuya. Abandoning Harry at the entrance, she confronted the teenager in the middle of the room.

“What’s the point of all this clutter if you can’t even detect when one of your ghost chasers is being attacked?” She sniffed, drawing everyone’s attention in an instant.

Even Lin stopped typing as every head turned in their direction, Harry grimaced at the dramatics.

“There wasn’t an attack, I found something and Mrs. Morishita was a little disturbed when-”   
“Disturbed?” Morishita glowered at him before rounding back on Shibuya who had yet to say a thing. “More like horrified to find out that even though you’ve been investigating since Noriko explained to you what happened and you’ve been here since this morning, I’m only now finding out that this house is full of  _ dead children _ .” 

The air left the room in a physical sweep, Taniyama actually gasped.

“If this is some kind of sick joke, I’m calling the police and will be pressing charges to the fullest extent of the law. And if this  _ isn’t _ a joke, then I demand you remove them at once.” 

There was a pause, Harry hunched his shoulders a little, uncomfortable with the number of wide eyes centered on both himself and Morishita.

Finally, Shibuya stood. “What happened, Potter?”

“M-my detection glyph in the sitting room, it caught something.” He pointed to the correct monitor and Lin was already in motion going over readings from that room, Shibuya didn’t blink.

“What exactly did you detect in that room?”

Harry rubbed at his temples, “It was a little overwhelming, but children. Lots of children spirits are in this house, and they’re all tied to something in the sitting room. Another spirit, but older and more powerful.”

“Children…” Monk whispered.

“What about the older spirit, was it human?” Shibuya prompted.

“I don’t know, I, er, it caught me off guard. I wasn’t prepared for the response.” He admitted sheepishly. He’d detected a greater amount of subjects before. Hell, he’d detected about the same number of humans at the schoolhouse. But he hadn’t dialed up the sensitivity so high, runemasters rarely did for that  _ exact _ reason. The human brain couldn’t comprehend that amount of detail all at once, at least not without repercussions.    
Harry had gotten impatient, what a rookie mistake. 

It hadn’t helped that it had been  _ spirits _ , on top of it. Not easily quantifiable or summarized, but the glyph had to try anyway. And then it had to shove as much detail into a runemaster’s head as possible, so even a small payload felt massive when it had to communicate every murky aura clinging to the very corners of the room. Like a linguistics student’s translation note-peppered homework, filled with uncertain add-ons and unstructured delivery.

“What do you think it could be? Some kind of residual presence from a massive tragedy?” Monk asked Shibuya, arms folded in front of his chest. 

Breaking from his abashed revelry, Harry looked up.

“I can find out if it’s human, it’s gender, and a so-so timeline if I check again.” He volunteered, steeling his spine. It would probably make his blooming headache an unmistakable reality, but it would be more than worth it to ensure the house wasn’t dangerous to Ayami Morishita.

“Do it, I want as many details as possible moving forward.” Shibuya nodded. 

Morishita reared back, incredulous. “You’ll allow him to do it again? What if something worse happens?” Harry was almost touched by the concern, though how much of it was for his actual wellbeing and not her nerves were up in the air.

“What do you mean? Runology isn’t dangerous….” Taniyama trailed off uncertainly, shooting him a confused look. 

Shibuya continued watching him, even as Monk and Matsuzaki shuffled out to peek around the sitting room. 

“I made the glyph a little too overpowered, it won’t affect the results and it isn’t harmful to anyone. It just startled the both of us, I think.” Harry smiled at Morishita who squinted back disbelievingly.

Thankfully, she didn’t push the issue, but she didn’t leave either.

“Did it hurt, though? You do look a little worn out.” Taniyama continued fretfully.

“Mai, stop bothering people. This is important.” Shibuya sat back down, facing the monitors. 

“You don’t have to be so rude.” She grumbled under her breath. She also disengaged, frowning worriedly at the footage Lin was looking over in lieu of Harry himself.

Harry couldn’t agree with Shibuya’s sentiment more, there was a lot more at stake than his general comfort after all. 

Harry took a deep, steadying breath and shut his eyes. He tapped into the glyph and allowed himself to be washed away by the onslaught of spirit children. 

It was a little easier, he was prepared for the force of it now, and tried to keep a level head even as his runic magic forced more information than any human could naturally process through his brain all at once. The children’s positions had moved, they seemed to bounce from wall to wall. But the number was the same, this time Harry was coherent enough to count eight.

That was all he had though, just the ability to try remembering as much of it as possible. His thoughts had been wiped away, too little room for more than a sense of self and purpose while he registered spirit after spirit. But he just needed to last a little while longer, just until he got a reading on the last spirit.

It felt like a nanosecond stretched into eternity, but eventually he reached the dark mass, the tether to all the children. It hadn’t moved, wrapped up in all the other ghosts. But Harry paid attention, he didn’t balk in horror or fight it. A woman, this time he was sure of it. Human at one point, the glyph didn’t consider her very different from the children. But still too powerful, too rigid, too miasmic. A woman, perhaps in her late twenties but her humanity was so long past it’s impossible to be certain. 

Harry’s eyes flew open, awareness slamming back into him as he instinctively drew in a sharp breath. 

“Harry! Are you okay?” Taniyama jumped.

“Well, at least you’re breathing this time.” Morishita grumbled, she was directly in front of him now, staring speculatively into his face. 

And she was right, Harry’s lungs were working fine and his breathing was only a little wheezy around the edges. It had just been the shock that stilled his lungs the first time around, if runemasters could suffer oxygen deprivation from a simple detection overload, novices would be dropping like flies.

What was really wrong though, was the headache that had come back tenfold. Like someone was hammering at his head, rhythmic and already far past the thin shell of his skull.

Harry let his eyes fall shut again, blocking out the light. 

“Potter, did you get the reading?”

He could actually hear Taniyama sucking in a breath to chide her boss for his lack of sympathy. He blurted it all out as quickly as possible, more than eager to cut her off before she gained volume.

“There, she’s still there. A woman, used to be human. Early thirties at the oldest upon her death, but she’s very old now. She’s bound to the children, or they’re all bound to her more like. She’s much more powerful than they are.” Harry grit out.

“Where exactly is she? Point at the monitor.” Shibuya instructed.

Harry let his eyes open again, the headache had receded the tiniest bit. Still a nauseating, hard  _ thud, thud, thud, _ but he could move his head and point to the left of the grainy footage of the coffee table, where the woman still stood.

Monk and Matsuzaki were doing slow circles around the room, blessing it in their respective religions. But the woman hadn’t even wavered while Harry was getting his second reading, the spirit has anchored herself well to the property.

“Mai, set up a camera and point it to the center of the living room.” Mai stomped out of the room without another word and one of the monitors began to shift perspective as she dragged it from a corner to take in the scope of the sitting room.

“There are eight children here, Shibuya. All under the age of thirteen.” Before he forgot, that would probably help narrow down his search for where all the children came from.

Shibuya swiveled in his chair to give him a considering look. 

“I see, that will narrow things down. Lin and I will start identifying them.” It was probably the closest he’s gotten to a thank you in Harry’s presence yet.

Shibuya swiveled back to the table where his laptop was open, effectively dismissing both Harry and Morishita.

The sound of keys clicking filled the room for a while, as both Lin and Shibuya typed away on their computers, flying past black-and-white article after article from databases Harry was unfamiliar with.

Harry allowed himself to get swept into the soft music of it, focusing on that while his headache eased at a glacial pace.

“I want you to diffuse the glyphs you’ve set up in the sitting room and front room, they won’t be of any use anymore. Make better ones to replace them. Then, I want you to start working on Ayami’s room.”

“Wouldn’t you want to leave it up in case something changes with the woman spirit?” Harry asked, confused. So far she hadn’t moved, perhaps sitting where she had died many years ago. But he couldn’t be certain and if that thought had occurred to him, then surely it had for Shibuya.

“There’s no need. I’ll contact Miss Hara about joining the investigation, she’ll provide more insight. In the meantime, your glyphs will suffice so long as you check frequently.”

Hara, Harry relaxed. A medium would do a much better job at monitoring the nitty-gritty, even if he cranked the power up even higher on his glyphs, he wouldn’t match that effectiveness. The family would be in good hands in that regard, leaving him to the much easier, comfortably runic tasks already planned.

“Perfect.” 

And with that, he trot out of the room to leave Shibuya and Lin in peace while he tore power away from of the magic coursing through his runes. He wouldn’t have to completely replace them, like Shibuya had suggested, thank Merlin. If the glyph was a braid of threads, he just needed to unravel a few. 

It could be quite the light show, his magic hissing angrily at the intrusion every time. Harry snuck a glance behind him, where Morishita was confidently headed in the same direction. 

It would hopefully be an entertaining distraction for the woman working very hard to appear as though she wasn’t trailing after him. He couldn’t imagine how stressed she must be right then, with her step-daughter just upstairs the room filled with dead children.

* * *

 

Harry finished all the detection glyphs in the span of an hour.

He now had a direct link to the front room, the sitting room, Ayami’s room, the kitchen, and both Noriko and Kana’s bedrooms. While children’s spirits flitted throughout the house, with the decreases sensitivity now all he knew is that they were adolescent human ghosts, the female spirit still had yet to move. 

Completely drained and still nursing his remaining headache, Harry collapsed into a chair at the control room at last. His eyes fell shut immediately and he didn’t bother to acknowledge anyone else in the room.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to take a nap here.” Monk laughed somewhere to his left.

“Course not.” He mumbled, folding his arms over the table in front of him and allowing his face to drop onto the makeshift pillow they made.

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind helping me convince our illustrious leader that testing for a living poltergeist is still a smart move.”

“Unnecessary.” Shibuya stated bluntly

Harry peered up at Monk, who was slumped against a wall with a look of frustration that didn’t match his casual tone.

“But what would be the point? We already know there are ghosts here and almost all of them are Ayami’s age, there’s clearly something going on with them.”

Monk waved it away. “I’m not saying that can’t be true, but come on. Why would an evil lady ghost keep doing low-grade stuff like opening doors and knocking on walls? The activity doesn’t match. And you’ve seen those sisters-in-law right? Don’t tell me there isn’t some tension between them.”

Harry thought back. He’d only seen Noriko Morishita and Ayami for a small time, as she took her niece outside to play while Harry put glyph sets in their bedrooms. Kana had led him upstairs and remained, but hadn’t spoken to either her sister-in-law or her step-daughter. Only Noriko and Ayami had spoken, greeting him softly and giving their permission so he could complete his task.

“Not really,” Harry said slowly, “They didn’t speak to each other when I was with them, so…”

Monk arched a brow. “Exactly! These two women are basically family who share custody of a child together, but they never speak unless they have to. Even with all this supernatural stuff going on, that usually drives people closer for safety if nothing else.”

Did it? Harry blinked up at Monk, he wasn’t sure he trusted that assessment. 

Wordlessly, Harry turned to Shibuya for his reasoning on the matter.

“While the activity does fit within the parameters of a poltergeist, we’ve already established there is, in fact, a haunting here. I would’ve stopped looking into the structural stability of the house as well if that hadn’t already been completed. There’s no point in wasting time on theories when the most likely scenario still needs to be addressed.” Shibuya summarized.

“Oh come on, it wouldn’t kill you to do your latent psychic test thing just in case. What if we clear out the ghosts and leave and this stuff still happens? What if things get tense enough and someone gets hurt?” Monk rounded on Harry again.

“What if it’s Ayami and it only gets worse when she enters puberty? Wouldn’t you feel terrible if her step-mother was hurt during a big fight?”

Harry doubted very much that either Ayami or her caretakers were the cause of poltergeist activity, just on their ages alone. Ayami was young enough that it was almost unheard of and the other two would’ve noticed that sort of activity beforehand if they were powerful enough to keep it up after leaving their teens.

But Monk had a point, there wouldn’t be any harm in it.

“If nothing else, it would clear up another theory without any second guesses. It would probably help the family too if they saw us actively doing things to help them.” Harry offered Shibuya.

“Are you still talking about the poltergeist test?” Taniyama burst in as she stepped into the room. 

“You should listen to Monk, Naru. Ayami is acting strange, she refused to eat lunch just now.”   
“So we should suspect psychic abilities now every time a little girl doesn’t want to eat her greens?” Shibuya very pointedly turned away from her. 

Taniyama scowled ferociously. “Stop being an egomaniac for two seconds! You’d think a guy like you would be leaping for the opportunity to prove Monk wrong anyhow!” 

“I thought you were on our side!” Monk whined.

Harry let his face drop back into his folded arms. So now there were sides, he should’ve just found a shady spot in the garden instead

“If the two of you are determined to act like children, I’ll move forward with the test.” Shibuya finally sighed out, he had already begun typing away on his computer as well.

“Oh, that’s grea-” 

Shibuya cut off his assistant. “In return I expect both of you to be on watch duty with the cameras. For all my considerable talent, I can’t complete my research and monitor the entire house singlehandedly like this.”

“Narcissist.” Taniyama grumbled.

“Why can’t you make your assistant do all of it?” Monk looked incredibly put out at the chore ahead. 

Taniyama spun around to scowl at Monk. “Excuse me?”

“Take it or leave it, you’re wasting my time.” Shibuya snapped above them both with all the iciness of an arctic wind.

This seemed enough to finally cow the two, who slipped off into resentful muttering as they took seats to stare up at the wall of monitors. Conspicuously, Matsuzaki did not return to the room, clearly thinking further ahead than Harry had.

For his part, Harry dozed. Letting his eyes fall shut and his mind drift.

Occasionally, he checked on his glyphs. But things remained steady save for the wandering children spirits, constantly traveling from one room to the other. Maybe they were trying to escape whatever killed them, even in death. Maybe the woman spirit was keeping them against their will, he’d have to discuss it with Hara once she arrived. 

Time passed slowly for a while, warm even in the air-conditioned home. The soft clutter of noise that was Lin and Shibuya’s typing and Taniyama and Monk’s low chatter filled the room with pleasant ambiance. It was nice, or maybe he was just more tired than he thought. 

Six detection glyphs weren’t superhuman to create in a single day by any means, but it had been taxing all the same. And he still hadn’t made any runebinds for the family yet, he should get on that as soon as they had more information on what kind of activity to protect against. 

Hopefully, Shibuya wouldn’t be as militant with his all hours of the night approach to monitoring spiritual activity as he was with the schoolhouse, Harry wouldn’t mind an early night to refresh himself for what was still waiting ahead.

That sounded lazy, maybe he’d just catch a nap tomorrow? He wouldn’t want to leave the family in danger just to catch up on sleep, the amount of children ghosts was a valid reason to keep alert. But so far there hadn’t been any real activity...

“Potter. Wake up.”

Harry jerked upright in his chair, suddenly wide awake as he nearly spilled right onto the floor shooting away from Shibuya.

Shibuya remained where he was, having clearly just stood from his own desk to the right of Harry, mouth an impatient line.

Harry glanced around quickly, Monk and Taniyama were nowhere to be seen and Lin had moved on to shuffling through one of the many file boxes stuffed into a corner of the room. Had he really gone to sleep?

He let out a breath, heart slowing. This was a little like the schoolhouse case all over again, maybe he was getting lazy. 

Harry looked up at his employer. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to really take a nap.”

Shibuya didn’t blink. “I will be conducting the latent psychic ability test right now, the others have chosen to watch. You’re to watch for any paranormal activity while we’re away.”

Harry nodded agreeably and turned to take in the glowing readouts and various shapes and colors on display. He couldn’t understand most of them, all gibberish in a dizzying language of ones and zeros, but he could just watch for any changes and report to Lin.

Shibuya’s footsteps trailed off to the hallway and paused. “And Potter, next time you decide to go to sleep, pick a guest bedroom.”

His footsteps picked up again, this time he sounded further away. “I only expect that kind of behavior from Mai.”   
“What did you say, you big jerk?” Came Taniyama’s bellowing demand from somewhere down the hallway, with her impressive set of lungs, it could’ve easily come from upstairs.

Harry winced and focused back on the monitors. The chiding more embarrassing than anything else, a seventeen-year-old shouldn’t have to tell him to not nap at headquarters. 

Oh well, at least his headache was all the way gone and he felt a bit perkier. He really had needed to catch his breath and it had been a long day. He’d take what he got and make the most of it. 

* * *

 

Harry sat at the foot of his guest bedroom, toweling off his head. 

The house really was decadently beautiful, even the shower had been spacious and expensively designed, with smooth, dark tile and an overhead waterfall spray. He’d set the flow to its coldest setting and was now enjoying a blissful chill after the scorching sun had finally dipped beyond sight.

His guest bedroom was just as nice. The bed was large and ornate, which wasn’t common in most old-fashioned Japanese homes, paired with a solid chestnut dresser. For decor, a few framed paintings and a large window viewing into the picturesque garden. 

He changed into comfortable loungewear and padded back downstairs, hair still damp but no longer dripping.

It was nearly ten at night, so this would be his final check in with the rest of his coworkers before heading to bed. So far the vase assigned for the latent psychic test hadn’t moved a single inch like he and Shibuya had already expected, and there wasn’t a hint of even the mild reported activity yet.

“Hey, anything happening?” Taniyama hummed from her slouch in front of the monitors, true to their word both she and Monk had been sat in front of the surveillance since Shibuya completed the test.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” This earned him a dirty look.

“Nothing’s happened for hours, man. My ass is going numb here.” Monk grouched, twisting in his seat to give Harry a once-over.

“Going to bed already? What are you, five?”

“Why? Jealous?” Harry shot back. Truthfully, he had a romance novel stuffed into his duffel that he wanted to begin. Ginny had recommended it during the last birthday party he attended back home and he had only just gotten around to owling it to himself. 

“Whatever,” Monk huffed, not fooling him for a second. “If you ask me, you should be here with us, you told Naru to do the test too.”

Taniyama blinked, “Oh yeah, how come you got out of it?”

Harry gestured toward the monitor displaying the center of the sitting room, moved to his instruction. “I didn’t, I’m monitoring these rooms too.”

“With you runes, right? Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure those wouldn’t work.” Monk arched a brow, “How much stock do you put into those runes away?”

Harry folded his arms across his chest. “I put my complete trust in them, you can’t just make up results in runic glyphs.”

“Alright, alright, I just thought you’d be sweating a little since Naru’s inviting media darling medium Masako Hara to double-check your work.” He laughed.

Double-check, Harry completely disagreed with that outlook, Hara was coming to help shed more light on his findings not to undermine them. But it still dug a little under his skin, that Monk thought he’d bring up such a serious assessment if it the evidence were truly so flimsy. “Well, I’d rather somehow be wrong and have Hara correct me than keep guessing blindly with your chanting as background music.” 

“Excuse me? My chants aren’t-”   
“Potter, did you come here to report any changes?” Shibuya brushed past Harry and into the room, casting a quick glance at the wall of monitors before coming back to him.

Harry shook his head, “Just heading upstairs, so I wanted to check in before I left.”

“Everything appears stable.”

“And Hara? What’s her ETA?”

Monk looked like he badly wanted to say something, but Shibuya answered quickly. “She’ll be here by tomorrow evening at the earliest, it was rather short notice.”

It was short notice, especially for a celebrity. Harry nodded understandingly and headed for the door. “Goodnight then.”

“Night, Harry!” Taniyama chirped while Monk gave a grudging wave. 

Harry made his way back down the hallway and to the staircase, intent on heading to bed and putting an end to their first day on the case.

“Potter, are you headed up as well?” 

Harry peered up the stairs to find Kana Morishita only a few steps above him. He felt a little underdressed now, barefoot and damp to her full makeup and heels. Didn’t she get uncomfortable? He knew he was on the less stylish end of things, but even Fleur wouldn’t still be wearing earrings after hours in her own home. 

“Potter?” Oh, he hadn’t answered yet.

“Yeah, I want to get an early start tomorrow. You?”

He began climbing up the stairs and she followed suit. “I’m putting Ayami to bed, it’s already far past her bedtime.”

“Is she having a hard time going to sleep recently? I can imagine it’s been stressful.”

“No, she’s been a night owl for as long as I’ve known her. Takes after her father that way, I suppose. And of course Noriko isn’t much help, if I left those two alone they’d never be up before noon.”

Harry laughed. “That’s a strong family trait.”

They reached the top of the stairs and Kana kept walking for Ayami’s bedroom, which was on the opposite side of the house to the guest bedrooms. Harry split from Kana and started for his own room, already wondering how delightfully hideous the cover of the book was, he still hadn’t unwrapped it from its packaging.

“What about those ghosts? Are you any closer to getting rid of them?” She continued, already far enough down the hall that Harry could politely ignore her and continue on his way.

Harry turned around and trotted to catch up, it helped that she was walking slowly. “Now that we know they’re there, Shibuya has contacted a credible medium to get a better picture of what’s going on. We don’t have an answer just yet, but today made great headway.”

Kana pursed her lips. “I see. And what about that protection you were supposed to give us? Don’t think I forgot about that.”

Was that was this was about? “Neither have I, don’t worry. I just need a better idea of what you all need protection  _ from _ , and luckily no one has been hurt so far. If our luck continues, I’ll never be able to make those for you.”

Harry checked on his glyph just then, it had been about fifteen minutes and those were the intervals he would be using until finally going to sleep. 

“Hmph, I suppose. But given the  _ nature _ of the spirits in this house, I would appreciate- Potter?”

“Ayami.” Harry hissed, breaking into a sprint for the last dozen feet and throwing open the door to the youngest Morishita’s room. 

The woman’s spirit still hadn’t moved, powerful and still like a dormant volcano. But the children’s chaotic spirits had suddenly and jarringly changed behavior. Now they were collected as one, a giant hand for the woman’s spirit to stretch out with, and it stretched for Ayami.

The little girl flinched from the door, a china doll clutched close to her chest as she startled from him. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Kana demanded as Harry beckoned for Ayami to come to them. He didn’t want to scare her, a stranger yanking her from her own bedroom would do more harm than good. But it wasn’t safe.

“The ghosts are all collected here, I don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Ayami, come here this instant.” Kana turned on her step-daughter immediately, features stern but fear glinting in her eyes.

Ayami...backed away, holding her doll even tighter as she stared up at the two of them distrustfully. Would she disobey her step-mother? Why?

Kana strode forward and Ayami backed away to maintain their distance. “Ayami, I don’t have time for your games-”

Harry had been keeping himself continuously tapped into his glyph, and he could sense the second that hand tightened into a fist, the children crushed together to resemble a single dark spirit more than the multiple ghosts they had been just moments before.

The shelves, bookcases, dressers, even the bed were yanked away from the walls in a single, massive shift. The rug was literally pulled out from under Kana, following the furniture’s lead by being shoved by a powerful force to fit diagonally in the bedroom.

Harry dove for the woman as she came crashing down, catching her under her arms with a grunt. She was taller than him, so he couldn’t stop her rear from hitting the hardwood floor hard, but nothing would be broken.

It didn’t escape either of them that Ayami, who had been near the center of the room, hadn’t lost her balance in the slightest. Her eyes were squeezed shut and he was impressed the porcelain hadn’t shattered in her arms with the force of her embrace, but she hadn’t even wobbled.

Kana was trembling slightly as she pulled away, the whites of her eyes unnaturally bright. As soon as she regained her footing, she bolted for the stairs without saying a word.

Harry lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Ayami before taking off after the woman, more than eager to leave the room and the ghosts falling away from it. Ayami gave a squeal of shock and immediately began to struggle in his grasp, but Harry just held on until they reached the first floor, though his eyes watered with every sharp-toed strike to his legs.

Kana, unburdened by a resistant, kicking child, was already coming back with the SPR in tow. 

“Are you two alright?” Monk asked seriously.

“Kana took a tumble,” and Harry was going to have some bright bruises decorating his shins come morning, “but other than that we’re fine.”

“Don’t you ever touch me or Minnie again! You big bully!” Ayami shrieked, teary-eyed but furious with him. 

“What happened?” Shibuya asked, and Kana headed back up the stairs with more bravery than Harry expected. 

“Follow me, you’ll see.” She panted, a quiver in her voice.

Cautiously, they all traveled back upstairs, eyes and eyes sharp for any further activity. Ayami was kept to the back of the line with Harry as they arrived at her bedroom, still in a disarray.

“I came up here to put Ayami to bed and then all the furniture just- just moved on its own.” Kana explained, hands clenching in the folds of her skirt. 

“Everything’s moved away from the walls.” Taniyama mumbled in confusion.

“What’s going on? I thought you people were supposed to stop things like this from happening!” Kana continued, anger masking over her clear fright. 

“Are you sure they moved on their own?” Matsuzaki asked, disbelief in her narrowed eyes.

Taniyama’s brows shot up incredulously. “Are you suggesting a little girl did this?” 

Harry stepped forward. “I was here when it happened, no one was touching any of the furniture when it moved.” 

He paused, considering. “Although, Ayami was completely unaffected when the rug moving nearly gave Mrs. Morishita a concussion.”

“Are you suggesting she did this with psychic abilities? There’s no way a little girl is capable of that!” Taniyama snapped.

“Relax,” Harry frowned, “the ghosts all gathered here right before it happened, they were probably responsible. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t involved somehow.”

“If the girl were capable of this, her latent abilities would’ve moved the vase first before trying to accomplish whatever this was.” Shibuya said, staring down at the rug with interest.

“It wasn’t Ayami.” The little girl protested.

Taniyama crouched down before the girl and gave her a soothing pat, a comforting smile on her face. “We believe you.”

Harry checked the glyphs to make sure the ghosts had fully dispersed, but what he found was another coiled fist directly below them. 

His eyes widened and he turned to Shibuya. “The-”

_ “Ahhhh!”  _ A shrill scream pierced the air.

“The sitting room!” Harry finished, and they all sprinted back down the stairs, Ayami in tow, and into the adjacent room where only Noriko had been.

“What’s wrong?” Taniyama plowed ahead only to stiffen in surprise. 

When Harry rounded the corner as well, he could see what had frightened Noriko so much. 

Similarly to Ayami’s room, the furniture had been manipulated by a strong force. The chairs were upside down, the pillows flung from the seats and now on the floor. The portraits were flipped to show their backs, the bookshelves were turned around, even the rug was upside down, perfectly in place to make for a strange sight.

“This looks like classic poltergeist activity.” Monk announced.

“But the ghost children did it again. Just before, they all came down here I could sense it.” Harry protested.

“What do you mean?” Shibuya turned to him, brow furrowed.

Harry struggled to describe what the glyph revealed. “They all, all the children gathered tightly together. But it wasn’t them, they were being used I think. When they came together in Ayami’s room and in here, it was like they lost all agency, just one big blob of power.”

“For what purpose?”

“I don’t know,” Harry confessed, “I think the woman spirit is definitely controlling them and using them now, but I don’t know what this was supposed to accomplish.”

Shibuya placed a hand to his chin thoughtfully. 

“You look like you’re onto something, care to share with the rest of us?” Monk seemed open to different opinions from his poltergeist theory, he was watching them both speculatively.

“Don’t you think this response is a little quick?” Shibuya murmured, “Paranormal phenomena tend to have an aversion to outsiders. Usually, any signs of a haunting back off for the first twenty-four hours of an investigation.”

“Really?” Taniyama asked, intrigued.

Monk continued for her benefit, but Harry was listening as well. “If you ever watch those TV shows that cover famous haunted houses, usually nothing substantial ever happens on camera, right? Normally, the spirits will shy away from the visitor initially, that’s not the case here. I think this is full-on hatred.” 

“You think the woman spirit here hates children?” Harry asked, dread weighing in his chest.

“Maybe not that specifically,” Shibuya shook his head, “why would she keep them here if that were the case? But the spirits in this house are aware of our presence, and are quickly becoming angry with us.”

Monk continued the thought. “So if you couple that with these increasingly brazen attempts to scare us off, we’re dealing with a poltergeist that means business.” 

Could the woman truly be a poltergeist? Harry wasn’t sure she was still human enough for that classification. “Can poltergeists control other spirits like this? Use them as tools?”

No one answered, the atmosphere tense and troubled. 

“We may have a hard time with this one.” Shibuya said darkly. 

It was pessimistic and foreboding, but Harry couldn’t argue. He felt the exact same way.

* * *

 

**Funny story. I actually began this chapter a good three chapters beforehand, but I didn’t like where it went and completely rewrote it after replotting some storylines. So I’ve got like thirty pages of alternative, slightly crappier scenes I don’t know what to do with. Oh well.**

**So Dollhouse is one of my favorite arcs and a beloved storyline by most fans, but I wanted to start taking these cases in new directions with Harry to keep things interesting. We already know this story, you know? I hope it wasn’t a total let down that I’m already tweaking with big reveals and key events in the timeline.**

**Sadly we didn’t get to see a lot from Minnie, but I dragged this a little more than I intended and I don’t think we even got completely through the first episode yet, haha. Whoops.**

**On an entirely unrelated note, I just saw Coco for the first time this week and if you haven’t seen it yet, I strongly urge you to. It was gorgeous in every sense of the word. Imelda is a star and La Llorona is imprinted on my heart (sorry Remember Me, that duet was spectacular).**

**Anyways, I hoped you guys enjoyed this and please drop a review on your way out! It helps so much with kicking my ass into gear and I seriously appreciate you all taking the time to talk about what you liked or didn’t like about it.**

**Thanks so much!**

  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CASE 2

**Soooo….**

**I've been a little busy don't know if you guys noticed. I mean, maybe not busy enough to justify way too many months without an update, but life has kept me on my toes. I aced my final exams (including the precalc one, not to brag). And I like to write when I'm stressed about things (such as finals week) but I know I'm crappy and overindulgent when I do, so I decided to make a new work and ruin that instead. Aaaand now it has a good 130 pages. I don't know why, it just kept growing. So yeah, if anyone's interested in a slice-of-life author-was-clearly-just-playing-with-pov-and-butterfly-effect FMA:B/HP x-over, let me know.**

**I also worked on my grandparents' ranch for a bit, so I almost have an excuse. Their ranch's wifi is absolutely terrible and I didn't have time to be on my computer. And now I'm taking a working summer with two part-time jobs so it's not like I was sitting on my ass, right?**

**Welp, at least you have almost forty pages? And I thought I made it pretty exciting, a lot of little plot threads lining up here. It didn't have the ONE scene I promised myself I'd include, but I guess it'll be a fun climax in the next chapter.**

**So in short- I'm very sorry, you're all angels who don't deserve this and please enjoy.**

* * *

The sun was just peeking over the mountains when Harry awoke.

Despite the early hour, already heat crept through the windows and humidity sank into his bedroom, heralding the sweltering day to come. The sun even seemed brighter, too close and concentrated for a rising dawn. Like a magnifying glass had been placed over the sky to fry people as a child would ants.

Harry yawned and tossed his thin sheets off, the welcome rush of cooler air helped soothe the near feverish heat under his covers. The paperback fell off his chest with the movement, flopping on his pillow and losing his page.

Harry gave a sigh but didn't bother leafing through it again, he remembered well enough where he'd left off. Just as Ginny had promised, it was a fast-paced drama with memorable climaxes and gripping mystery. The heroine was spunky and her prickly love interest was already allowing glimpses of his typical heart of gold to shine through. Harry still hadn't figured out who was stalking the heroine, but he had his eye on the kind barkeeper.

He tucked the novel under his pillow and shuffled off to the bathroom, ready to start the day.

Once he was dressed and refreshed, Harry padded down to the kitchen and got to work making breakfast.

Shibuya had declared the living room and Ayami's bedroom off limits for now, but Harry kept regularly checking into his glyphs and there was no further activity in either room. He understood the caution, but he doubted the spirits would strike twice in the same room.

The female spirit loomed in utter silence, a streak of malice among the scattered lights of children ghosts. They had since resumed circling around the manor in random bursts and showed no signs of condensing again. Harry felt comfortable enough to be alone as he went about ingratiating himself to Ayami.

Blueberry pancakes were never a hard sell. He dug out the pancake batter he'd spied the other day and swiped a few blueberries from the fridge and got to work at the stove.

Sure enough, within minutes of flipping his first pancake, Noriko and Ayami stumbled downstairs, hair in similar disarray.

"She smelled pancakes and I couldn't hold her back." Noriko apologized in greeting.

"Well, that's good, because the first batch is for her." He smiled down at the little girl as he set out a few plates.

Ayami frowned suspiciously up at him, resembling Kana with a dash more petulance. Hm, she definitely hadn't forgotten last night then.

"Thank you so much, I'm sure Ayami appreciates a fresh breakfast. Neither I or Kana are very good cooks." Noriko hefted Ayami onto a barstool before joining her, she seemed remarkably at ease for someone in rumpled flannel pajamas in front of a strange man. But then, her eyes were half-lidded and her posture was boneless so perhaps she had yet to fully wake up.

"Pancakes are easy, I'm sure your meals are just as tasty. Right, Ayami?" Harry plopped a plate full of hot blueberry pancakes in front of Ayami with a disarming grin.

Ayami stared down at the plate, big brown eyes that much bigger.

"Auntie Noriko makes the best sandwiches," Ayami muttered to the pancakes, fidgeting with her hands all the while.

Rewardingly, Harry stabbed a fork and knife into the pancakes and allowed Ayami to dig in. He quietly placed the butter and a bottle of syrup nearby and went back to his pan.

"Thank you," Noriko hummed again, she leaned forward to cut Ayami's pancakes and once she leaned back, Ayami didn't hesitate to shove as much pancake into her mouth as the fork allowed.

"Thank  _you_  for letting me meddle in your kitchen," Harry shot back as he stirred more batter onto the pan. "You have some very fresh blueberries."

"There's a berry patch in the garden, Ayami helped me pick these a few days ago."

Harry watched a bit of pink smudge onto Ayami's cheeks with a grin, "Wow, Ayami. You have a very good eye, there wasn't a bad berry in the whole lot."

She frowned up at him again, sticky syrup on her chin. "Really?"

So suspicious.

"Yup," Harry flipped two more pancakes onto a plate and handed them to Noriko, "Haven't seen so many nice berries in one bowl before."

Noriko thanked him for a third time, definitely still half asleep, and smeared a generous amount of butter across the stack.

"...Thank you." Ayami echoed grudgingly and then jammed another giant forkful into her mouth.

Harry couldn't keep the happiness off his face, a lightness burrowing into his ribs. She was a cutie, even with the simmering resentment. Rosy-cheeked with big dark eyes and mussed up ringlets of light hair that fell to her shoulders. Like a grouchy little doll, oh but she must have doting adults eating out of the palm of her hand.

And what did that make him? Covered in blooming bruises from her hard kicks and still thinking up ways to catch a smile?

He flipped a few more pancakes onto another plate for whoever woke up next.

"Are those for Minnie?" Ayami asked through a mouthful of food.

"Chew your food before speaking, please." Noriko hopped off the stool to pluck a glass from a cabinet and serve Ayami a cup of orange juice.

"Who's Minnie?" Harry gave Noriko a bemused look when she dropped a cup of orange juice in front of him as well.

"She's my friend." Ayami gestured toward the seat beside her, the empty one opposite Noriko.

Or, Harry startled, it had been empty. He could've sworn last he'd looked up there hadn't been anything there, but now the china doll Ayami had been clutching last night was sitting slumped against the counter, painted smile leering up at him.

"Oh," Harry swallowed, "she's very pretty."  
Ayami nodded grimly and then turned her attention back on the plate of pancakes. "Are those for her?"

"Ayami, sweetie, we talked about this. Minnie doesn't eat people food."

Ayami bit her lip, "Minnie says she did, that she's eaten lots of people food." By Noriko's sleepy look of frustration, this seemed to be an ongoing discussion.

"Maybe so, but these are far too big for her," Harry broke in, gazing sadly down at the broad circles of batter bubbling in his pan, "She'd get a stomach ache for sure."

Ayami shrank, looking just as troubled as he did. It was hard not to crack a smile.

"Yeah…"

"But thankfully, I have some that are just her size." Harry had been making pancakes since before he was tall enough to reach the stove, it was one of the first things he had been instructed to cook for the Dursleys. As such, it wasn't a boast to say he was fairly experienced and knew how to make the batter fluffy and the pancakes evenly cooked. He hardly ever dripped batter when pouring new pancakes onto his pan, it caused an undue mess and even a due one often lead to a night without dinner.

But it was inevitable that he  _would_  drip onto the pan eventually, and made no effort to combine it with the larger pancake. Instead, he flipped it twice and within the minute had a perfect tiny little circle on its own plate. He presented it to Ayami for scrutiny.

"Do you think she'll like it?"

Ayami studied it for a time, so serious Harry bit down on his chuckle. Noriko watched with unabashed humor, fork twirling in her hand

"She'll like it." Ayami finally decided, and pushed the plate in front of her china doll.

Harry looked at the doll, Minnie. He'd never had one and Dudley broke anything that even resembled one, so perhaps that's why he found it unnerving. The way it's bright yellow locks were perfectly curled even though Ayami hadn't found time to brush her own hair yet. The way its face was so bone white, even for a china doll, no wear or dirt that came with being owned by a child.

Maybe how it was shaped. Like the artist had only heard of what a smile looked like when recreating one, for there was nothing happy about the pull of its lips or staring blankness of its eyes. It could just be the eyes, now that Harry was looking, because, for all that they were inhumanly wide and flat, they were a near perfect match in color to his own.

"I hope she enjoys," Harry mumbled, tearing himself away just in time to save a pancake from getting scorched.

"Minnie was a going away gift from my brother," Noriko said conversationally, halfway through her stack now. "I thought it was a little too fragile but…"

"Ayami does seem to be taking good care of her," Harry smiled as the pink returned to Ayami's cheeks even as she resolutely ignored the both of them in favor of eating the rest of her breakfast.

"I know, she's spotless. I don't even have to wash her dresses." Noriko laughed, "I wasn't nearly as kind to my own dolls."

There was an awkward lull, where Harry was clearly meant to volunteer his own stories. But he didn't have any, nor enough experience with children to effectively make one up. He'd had a handful of crooked toy soldiers that he'd repaired to the best of his abilities before being moved to Dudley's second room, but that was it. He wasn't keen to share that either, not after the face Hermione made when he'd told her about it as children.

"Please tell me I'm smelling what I think I'm smelling?" Monk's baritone rang from the stairs, quickly followed by a thunder of footsteps down to the kitchen.

Harry flipped two more pancakes onto another plate right as Monk took the corner at high speed, almost skidding on the wooden floor.

Unlike Noriko and Ayami, Monk appeared fully dressed and wide awake, eyes immediately fixed upon the plate with the intensity of a ravenous wolf.

"Here you go," Harry didn't even need to hand it to him, as soon as Monk got the okay he yanked it closer in a clatter of porcelain and sat on the barstool next to Minnie.

"These look delicious! Thanks- Harry?" Monk peered at him in bemusement once he'd managed to tear his gaze from the pancakes.

"Huh, you cook?"

"A little bit, pancakes aren't exactly complicated." Harry handed him a knife and fork and whatever attention he'd commanded was lost to breakfast.

The monk was actually worse than Ayami, not only stuffing so much pancake into his mouth that his cheeks bulged like a hamster, but also drowning his plate in butter and syrup in the process. Harry took a sip of his orange juice to hide his smile.

It tasted as though it might be as fresh as the blueberries, a little pulpy and very sweet. He savored the chill of it running down his throat as he hunched over the popping stove and poured more batter onto the pan. It was hot work, but getting a blast of fresh blueberry pancakes with each breath was nice.

He dug at the forming pancakes with his spatula, getting ready to flip.

"Well, I better get Ayami ready for the day." Noriko plucked both her and Ayami's plates up and dropped them into the sink. As she brushed by the stove, she gave Harry a soft pat on the shoulder.

Harry tried not to startle away from the contact, hands dangerously close to bubbling oil.

Noriko was smiling softly at him, "Thanks for breakfast. Leave everything in the sink, I'll wash it later." She turned the corner before he could refuse and Ayami quickly trot after her, Minnie pressed against her chest.

The two shuffled back upstairs in silence and Harry slowly turned his attention back to his pan.

"That was way smoother than I thought you could be, you'll totally get them eating out of your hands if you keep this up." Monk garbled out with a laugh that almost sent a blueberry flying from his full mouth.

Harry flung the finished pancakes onto a new plate, "You think? I don't want Ayami to be uncomfortable around people living in her house."

Monk swallowed, miraculously not choking. "Sure, sure, and I bet Kana and Noriko Morishita appreciate it too."

"I guess," Harry said slowly, frowning faintly at his next pancake. Were the two Morishitas avid pancake eaters?

"Aw, come on. Don't play coy with me." Monk snagged a third and dumped it into the lake of syrup that had become his plate.

"It's just us guys now, after all."

Harry tossed a handful of rinsed blueberries into the batter, a familiar motion to distract himself from his confusion. He had no idea what Monk was talking about now, what did pancakes have to do with them being men? Was he just bad at transitioning topics?

Harry hazarded a glance up to Monk, who was propped up on the bar, chin pressed into his palm with the slightest curl of a smirk peeking behind his fingers.

"Did you want to talk about something?" He guessed.

Monk's smirk slipped and he rolled his eyes dramatically, Harry had guessed wrong.

"Fine, whatever," Monk shoved half a pancake into his mouth, "Geez, how am  _I_  the one who was raised on a mountain?"

Or at least that's what Harry thought he said next, it was difficult to tell with how badly he mangled it in his protruding cheeks.

Harry flipped a pancake, "Hmph, see if I make breakfast for you again."

Monk blanched, "Aw, come on! I was just kidding around, don't be mad at me."

"I don't understand the joke," Harry said coolly.

"It's just that you, John, Lin, and Naru all kind of act like you've never been around women before, but in a funny way!" Monk backtracked awkwardly, "Not weird or anything, but kind of awkward. But not unattractive- you saw how much Kuroda liked you, right?"

Harry should probably let him off the hook, he might really choke on his food at this rate.

"And not to say you act like Naru,  _he's_  in a category all his own. But-"

Harry dropped another pancake onto Monk's dwindling stack, "Alright, I get it." He allowed mercifully, fighting hard to keep from laughing at Monk's pathetically grateful face.

"I know I can be a little oblivious."

"Crap, don't go agreeing with me," Monk groaned, he even stopped eating to look properly guilty. "I was just being a dolt, okay?"

"Now, I think that's something we can all agree on," Matsuzaki said brightly as she stalked into the room, fully decked out in ancient shrine maiden robes.

"Shut up, I wasn't talking to you," Monk hunched over his plate and began to devour the rest of his pancakes in earnest, as though Matsuzaki might steal them at any moment.

Matsuzaki eyed him with disdain, "What a charmer,"

"Pancakes?" Harry was almost done on his fifth plate of pancakes, so he hoped most of the SPR liked them.

She looked him over expressionlessly, whatever she found didn't soften her straight-backed stance. "No thanks, not really my sty-"

Dropping a good ten years off her face, Matsuzaki lurched to the bar, eyes wide. "Are those blueberries?"

"Fresh blueberries," Monk confirmed over his last mouthful

"Oh, I haven't had blueberry pancakes in years," She placed herself on a bar stool, sandals crossed elegantly, and took a fork and knife from Harry with a small smile. "Thank you."

"You should thank the Morishitas, I'm using all their stuff." He waved away.

Harry turned his attention back to the stove, but it didn't last. He just had to listen in when Monk asked why Matsuzaki was already wearing her robes.

"We already know where the spirit is, I don't see why we shouldn't try cleansing the earth to weaken its hold."

"Because it didn't work yesterday? Harry confirmed it." Monk shrugged.

Matsuzaki pinned Harry with a hard look then, "And you can't read even the slightest change? Can your glyph even measure such a thing?"

Harry ran his magic over his glyphs with a twitch of his hand around his spatula, they rang back faithfully. "Sorry, Matsuzaki, I don't know about the earth but I can read how powerful a spirit is and nothing has changed."

She pursed her lips but didn't push the issue. Instead, pointedly turning her attention back to her plain blueberry pancakes.

After finishing most of it, she put the plate in the sink and then went to start chanting in the living room.

Monk shuffled after her, craning his head out of the kitchen. "Um, didn't Naru declare that room off limits?"

"Then you better stick close in case something comes along, hm?" She shot back

Monk sent Harry a frazzled look, so Harry shooed him off after her. Naru probably wouldn't get mad if they only went to purely for the case, and it would be better if someone could keep an eye out for trouble while she worked.

Besides, Harry checked on his glyphs again, nothing had changed since last night. Monk disappeared after her and left Harry alone in the kitchen with his several plates of pancakes.

Some time passed as he lost himself in the rhythm of cooking, a childhood companion that put a sway in his arms and a tune on his lips. He found the beat of each flip and the tempo of hissing oil. A symphony he could lose track of all else with, if just for a moment.

The heat of the stove on his face was uncomfortable, and a spit or two of oil against his skin bloomed into red irritated freckles, but they were easy to block out as he sank into his task. His pancakes were thick and fluffy, the blueberries a merry blue against the batter, and the smell that was sweet and fresh in the morning air.

Harry could've spent hours dancing to that song, but he didn't. Somewhere in between the shuffle-step from batter bowl to pan and the musical scrape of his spatula against the pain, he was interrupted.

"Oh man, I thought I was dreaming. Are those pancakes?" Taniyama chirped, mere feet away.

Harry shot back, spatula clenched tight and feet finding a surer stance behind the bar, a chill of adrenalin shattered his nostalgic haze. The song was lost on a record screech, giving way to alarm.

Too close, too close, and where was his wand? He couldn't defend himself with only a spatula, where had he put it?

"Um, Harry?"

Taniyama was stock-still, big brown eyes wide in confusion. She was in play shorts and a bright polo, no bone white mask or black cloak in sight.

Harry very nearly smacked himself, but he didn't want to unnerve her any further. He grit his teeth and inhaled sharply, trying his best to knock himself back into a normal space on willpower alone.

"Taniyama," He greeted a little too breathlessly. If he couldn't pretend to be unaffected, he might aim for a joke. "You scared me!"

She smiled apologetically, stepping closer to the bar as Harry forced his limbs into a vaguely relaxed fashion. "Ha, sorry about that. I didn't think you can jump that high."

He laughed, heart thudding hard in his chest and the itching need for a wand on his fingertips. "You'd jump too if someone popped out at you like that when you were alone."

"Yeah, you looked really distracted. You like cooking that much?" She hopped onto a bar stool and let the motion spin her in a little circle.

Harry placed a plate and utensils before her and finished flipping his final pancake. He did so with deliberate slowness in an effort not to look like he was running away. "Yeah, I guess."

"Mmm! These look great!" Taniyama cheered.

While she started on her first pancake, Harry switched off the stove and took the pan to the sink. He carefully rinsed the still bubbling pan, scrubbing the batter away as the cold water shrieked against iron.

"You know," Taniyama mumbled conversationally, "I think you're the only one besides maybe Lin who still calls me Taniyama."

"Isn't it weird to call you by your first name?" Harry shrugged, his back still turned as he let the pan cool under the tap and then carefully placed it besides the sink. He moved on to the other dishes, it would be rude to leave Noriko and Kana to clean up after all of them.

"Well, I  _guess_ ," Mai said this as though Harry had pointed out some useless semantic, "But come on, it's just Mai. Aren't we friends?"

Harry...didn't consider them friends. They've barely interacted, this was only their second case together. But when Harry turned to look over his shoulder at the teenager, she was staring back with true sincerity, big eyes even bigger, posture confident and open.

Huh, Harry turned back to his dishes. Which one of them was being weird, then? Harry thought it was much too fast, but perhaps he was just being distant?

Maybe it was a youth thing, Harry had made friends during his first few years of Hogwarts rather easily, after all. Well, what was the harm.

"Mai, then." He mumbled, and he didn't have to look back to sense the beaming grin being sent from the bar.

She didn't say anything else and the kitchen was blanketed in distinctly happy silence.

Harry finished the dishes and left the rest of the pancakes evenly plated on the counter. Mai assured him Shibuya had been right after her in the bathroom so the others should begin trickling down soon.

"What are you going to do now?"

Harry paused before leaving the kitchen, "Er, well I was going to go back upstairs to get some things and then I was going to monitor the spirits."

She waved him away cheerily and so Harry took the stairs as quickly as his hip would allow and darted into his bedroom.

His wand, Harry couldn't believe he had forgotten his wand. So stupid, so unsafe.

He snatched it from the trousers he'd discarded to a laundry bin and tucked it into his back pocket, carefully hidden under the hem of his shirt. As soon as it touched his skin, the frenetic, gnawing itch Mai had awakened in the kitchen finally eased.

The last ice clinging to his spine and shoulder melted away with a sigh, he drooped, arms dropping and knees locking. He allowed himself to stop glancing at every corner of the room in wait of a werewolf that had died years ago, he was just frazzled.

With a sigh, Harry turned to leave for downstairs-

Only to freeze, heart crushed in his chest as he stared at the tiny figure standing before his doorway.

Still and utterly quiet, Ayami stared back. She was well groomed now, hair in two shiny pigtails and flowery dress ironed to perfection. In her hands, oddly positioned, was the doll.

Ayami angled Minnie like a lantern, at the center of her chest but just away from it, faced toward Harry. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Ayami was presenting Harry with the doll.

Or perhaps, a strange voice in his head suggested, she was presenting Harry to Minnie.

"What- is something wrong?" Harry asked, licking his lips and avoiding the blank gaze of the doll.

Ayami blinked back, dark eyes a little darker than before. Then she shook her head without a word.

Before Harry could ask why she was looming so eerily in the hallway, Kana's voice pierced the air.

"Ayami! I just finished telling you people were sleeping over here, honestly." She huffed, stepping into view and effectively destroying the tension. She was already straightened out and done up, lipstick perfectly applied and a new pair of expensive earrings dangling about her head.

"Good morning, Mrs. Morishita." Harry bid, and was gratified to see someone  _else_  startle for a change.

"Oh! Potter, you're up. Was Ayami bothering you?"

Harry smiled down at the blank-faced girl, steeling his nerves. "No, I think I was making noise and she got curious. Isn't that right?"

Ayami finally reacted, gazing suspiciously up at him, arms tightening around her doll. "Nuh uh, it was Minnie."  
"Right, right, Minnie." Kana Morishita sighed, and patted the girl on the head. Ayami endured it stiffly, much to Harry's amusement. What a fussy little girl, really.

"Come on, it's cool enough to spend some time outside just yet." The step-mother began herding Ayami to the stairs and out of sight.

Harry followed after them, "Before you go, I made blueberry pancakes, there should be a plate for you, if you're hungry."

Kana looked back, surprise flitting across her smooth face, "That was you? I was wondering what that smell was." She didn't immediately move, though. Instead, she allowed her eyes to rest on him a moment, speculative.

Harry stood awkwardly, unsure of what she was looking for. She seemed in no hurry to tell him, tracing over the line of his shoulders and the crease of his brow at a leisurely pace.

"I'll consider it, thank you." She decided, and without bothering for another word, stalked down the steps and glided into the kitchen.

Harry watched her go, bemused.

So she was an avid pancake eater, hm? He supposed he knew who had insisted upon blueberry bushes now.

* * *

"Are the exorcisms having any effect?"

Harry looked up from the cameras to Shibuya, standing a careful few feet away. He wasn't facing Harry either, peering closely at every glowing monitor in turn. How oddly thoughtful of him, or perhaps he was just accustomed to acting in the most efficient manner possible, even if it meant humoring jumpy wizards.

Harry turned back to the one he had been watching, the sitting room Monk had situated himself in after dinner. Matsuzaki had moved on to Ayami's bedroom by that point, and both had been chanting and praying tirelessly for all that Harry hadn't sensed even a waver in the spirits.

"None that I can tell. The woman spirit is too rooted for a cleansing to work, she might've been buried here." Harry sighed, "And the children are tied to the woman, they won't go until she does."

The grim line of Shibuya's mouth tugged further down.

"Have you figured out where these spirits came from yet?" Harry asked curiously.

Shibuya didn't answer for a drawn-out moment, Harry watched him for a tell. The teenager was a blank space where body language might've colored someone else in unspoken thoughts and concerns, his posture military and his face marble in its pale impassiveness.

But he thought he could spy his answer in the displeased tightening at the edges of his employer's deep blue eyes.

"I have a few leads I'm pursuing." Was what Shibuya finally said.  
Harry didn't bother prodding for more, he sedately turned his attention back to the monitors. Briefly, he checked on his glyphs, but nothing yet had changed. Perhaps a few more children circled about the sitting room, but they could just be curious about Monk. It wasn't the sweeping, unified utilitarian transformation of before, so he let it be.

"Have you said something to the little girl?"

Harry glanced back at Shibuya, displeasure pinching at him. So even he had noticed Ayami's suspicion. For all that she seemed to have relaxed over breakfast, the tentative truce had melted in the summer sun by lunch. She kept...watching him, doll clutched tight. She'd appear at random in any room Harry occupied without a word to spare him, it was one of the reasons he had fled to headquarters.

Harry wasn't sure why she did it, what about himself warranted such serious observation when there were literal exorcisms happening in her home?

"Not a clue," He admitted, "She trusted me enough to eat my pancakes but something must've happened afterward."

Shibuya hummed, "Perhaps Noriko or Kana Morishita warned her away from us. Watch her for further odd behavior."

" _Look!_ "

The increasingly familiar pitch of Taniyama- Mai's scream ripped through the air, sending Harry tumbling out of his chair.

Without further prompting both Shibuya and himself raced to where the scream had originated, the kitchen. As they did so, Harry yanked on his glyph, demanding to know what had happened.

The glyph...looked normal. A few more children in the sitting room than last night, but nothing odder than that. There weren't any spirits in the kitchen with Mai, either, she was surrounded only by humans.

"What's wrong?" Shibuya barked as soon as they made it to the kitchen. Mai was ducked behind Monk, white as a sheet.

"Naru, there was someone at the window looking in! A little kid!" She shrieked, pointing wildly at the window just above the sink.

Shibuya opened the window and hopped onto the counter to crane his head out and search in all directions for a trespasser. Several seconds rolled by before he turned back to Mai, eyes sharp.

"Are you sure?"

Mai scowled ferociously, "Of course I'm sure! It was right- There! Naru! Right there!" Now she was pointing at another window, flinching away as though struck by the sight.

Harry threw the window open, looking on the horizon and even at the flower garden just below, there weren't any footprints in the soil, child-sized or otherwise.

"You...you didn't see anything either?" Mai guessed as Harry stared down at the uncrushed grass and peaceful birds a few feet away, no one had walked by.

"Maybe this heat is getting to you, you were outside with Ayami for a while." Monk wondered, backing away from Mai to get a better look at her.

"Maybe it was Ayami? She could've wandered out." Noriko Morishita set off to find her niece with Monk and Mai close behind.

"Did your glyph pick up any activity?" Shibuya asked Harry, they dragged a little behind and out of earshot of the others.

"There were spirits in the garden, but they weren't being controlled," Harry kept checking his glyphs over and over but they remained the same. The woman's ghost was lying dormant, a sinister stain on the house and nothing more. "No one could've been outside, though. Nothing was disturbed."

They fell even further behind as the group took to the stairs, heading for Noriko's bedroom. "Do you think the children's ghosts don't want us here either?"

Shibuya's brows furrowed, "Interaction with the living is not a direct indication of anything except that the spirits wish interaction," He sounded as though he were reciting an old textbook.

"But the woman doesn't want us here, why else would the children act out?" Harry and Shibuya made it up the stairs and started down the right hallway.

"Think for a minute, these children are bound here if your glyph is correct. Why would their motivations coincide with the entity trapping them here?"

Harry stared, realizing what Shibuya was implying. "You think they might be seeking help?"

"Ayami didn't do it!" Ayami's young voice trilled as they continued down the hallway.

"Looks like they found her," Harry muttered.

"Ayami didn't do it!" Oh, and perhaps confronting a sleepy child before bed had been the wrong choice if the brewing tantrum meant anything.

Suddenly, as though a rocking from a harsh earthquake, the entire house jerked. Harry and Shibuya smacked into the wall, Shibuya just barely missed braining himself against a doorknob on his way down.

"Ayami didn't do it!"

Harry reached out for his glyphs and found the children spirits erased, mangled into the dark hand of the woman, their voices silenced. With that hand, she grasped the bedroom in between greedy fingers and let her miasma spread.

The house continued to shake, jerking wildly in the opposite direction now. This time Harry was prepared and crouched for it, arms outstretched. Shibuya knelt on the carpet, he was leaning toward Ayami's door like a hunting dog waiting to be unleashed on a scent.

"Stop it!" Ayami continued to cry as the low murmurs of the others rose into panicked gasps.

Another yank in the opposite direction as the house continued to tremble around them, Harry winced as he still bounced off the wall, however slightly, bruising his shoulder to keep his hip from making contact.

"Noriko!" Mai suddenly called out and it was immediately followed by a deafening slam. Noriko never answered, a thrill of fear struck Harry.

The house went still after that, not groaning or creaking even as it seemed to sag into place, stable once more. The hallway was a mess, portraits thrown from the walls and shelved ornaments in shards across the carpet.

As soon as Harry got to his feet he was off, sprinting the rest of the way and nearly bowling Mai over.

"What happened? Is everyone okay?" He snapped, looking over Monk, Mai, and Ayami all standing in horror around an upturned bookshelf.

It didn't take long for Harry to register their expressions and the distinct lack of Noriko before he connected the dots. Heart in his throat, Harry threw himself to his knees and pushed the bookshelf as hard as he could. Already he could see the crumpled figure beneath, curled with her arms over her head. The bookshelf suddenly became much lighter, and Harry didn't look away from Noriko even as Monk and Shibuya hoisted the shelf and several books off of the woman.

"Noriko, what hurts? Is anything broken?" Harry pulled her straight and brushed her bangs away from her face.

To his immense relief, she was awake. Eyes opened and a little glassy with fear, she shifted upright with a palm pressed against her temple.

"I-I think I'm alright." She whispered, even as Harry pressed his hands across her limbs for any sign of a break or twist. But she seemed fine, purpling bruises aside. Even her fingers, which had cradled her head, appeared unscathed.

"And your head?" Monk leaned in to get a better look at the back of her.

"Just a little sore, no blood or anything." Noriko sounded less stunned now, as she pulled herself into a kneel before the discarded bookshelf.

"Auntie Noriko!" Ayami burst out, and the little girl threw herself into her aunt's lap, tears coursing down her face.

Harry watched Noriko's eyes track the movement easily and relaxed, she probably didn't have a concussion either.

"Shhh...I'm okay, Ayami. There's nothing to be frightened of." She stroked Ayami's hair soothingly, letting her cry a puddle into her skirt.

"Except for the whole house-shaking thing," Monk grumbled under his breath.

"What was that, anyway? It looked like Ayami was causing it." Mai whispered away from the girl's hearing.

Instead of answering, Shibuya pinned Harry with a firm stare, command unspoken but plain as day.

"It was the woman again, she used the other spirits like she did last night to attack the whole room, it was strong enough to affect more than that, though." Harry shuddered, she was far too powerful with the children at her disposal. To make a house quake just targeting a single room like that...and her presence hadn't diminished in the slightest. Harry could sense her still, just as stark in the sitting room as before, just as solid.

Mai let out a strangled squeak just then, and Harry turned his head away from the sitting room's direction to find her clutching onto the sleeve of her employer, eyes fixed upon the window.

"Are you seeing them again?" Shibuya asked in a hushed whisper, drawing them all away from Noriko and Ayami and back into the hallway.

"This is the second floor!" Mai hissed between her teeth, "But I saw another kid looking inside."

"Yeesh, freaky." Monk edged out of sight of the window Mai was still taking swift glances at.

"Its...a different spirit from before, a girl this time. At least I think so." Harry mumbled, letting the detection glyph run over the spirits just outside the house, their details fuzzy and jumbled at best.

Mai nodded miserably, "She had braids."

Shibuya remained silent, the cogs in his head turning so loudly, Harry was surprised he couldn't actually hear the teenager's speculation.

"So...are we sure it's not Ayami? Even a little bit?" Monk cocked his head in a disarming fashion, but his eyes were hard.

"But you heard Harry, it was the woman again." Mai sounded confused.

"Yeah, but what are the odds this stuff keeps involving Ayami? Maybe she's influencing the spirits around her somehow, or commands the woman ghost?"

Harry snorted, "A little girl? I'd be impressed if anyone  _here_  could control that spirit for more than a few seconds."

Monk's shoulders rose an inch, making him appear that much larger. "Come on, hear me out. What if you're just sensing a curse or her conduit? Little kids screw around with occult stuff all the time and this is a pretty old house. Maybe she doesn't even know what it was for."

Harry leaned back a little on his heels to keep Monk at the center of his vision, "That's just guessing. Do you see any arcane spellbooks around here? Because I don't. The woman is working on her own, she's a fully fledged spirit my glyphs can tell me that-" A motion behind Monk stole his attention.

Harry craned his head to find Ayami peeking from the doorway, face still puffy from tears. She looked frightened, doll held up and away and facing him dead-on, unblinking paint eyes making perfect eye contact. Harry shivered and looked back to Ayami, avoiding the prickle of the doll's imaginary intent crawl across his face.

"Let's got review the footage." Shibuya decided, clearly unwilling to let Ayami or Noriko listen in on their discussion. He'd suspected Noriko or Kana had turned Ayami against them earlier as well, did he not trust them?

Harry set off after Shibuya, who'd already turned to the stairs with Monk and Mai at his heels when a glimmer caught his eye.

Harry allowed the distraction and found himself looking down at a shard of glass from a portrait that had fallen badly across a space of wooden flooring between rugs.

He couldn't leave the cleanup to just poor Noriko and Kana, straightening out her own bedroom would probably take most of the night and Kana was already turned in. It would be an awful chore come morning as well, the air conditioning wasn't as strong on the second floor and with an old mansion, it would be stuffy no matter what they did.

"Harry?" Monk was standing at the first step of the stairs, concern adding wrinkles to his forehead.

"I'll hang back and start cleaning up the mess. Somebody could get hurt as it is." Harry decided, "Don't mind me, go on."

"I'll get you some trash bags." He offered, and hopped down the steps two at a time as though they hadn't been rattling dangerously mere minutes ago.

Harry sighed and left the shards alone for now, instead he turned his attention to rehanging the other portraits and straightening the ones that hadn't fallen. The side tables were right-ended and the surviving ornaments and vases were returned. He tugged the rugs until they were recentered in the hallways, kicking the shards into a careful circle of glass and porcelain. For anything smaller, he'd need a broom or vacuum.

All the while, the creepy-crawly feeling of Ayami and her doll staring at him from Noriko's bedroom prevailed, though he didn't want to turn around and confirm she hadn't budged an inch since the others left.

"Ayami, could you help me with this?" Came Noriko's faint call from the bedroom, something clacked against the floor.

Harry still didn't turn around, he accepted the trash bag from Monk and delicately placed the shards and clumps of dirt from potted plants into the bag, all the while, the feeling tickling the back of his neck still hadn't wavered.

Finally, Harry couldn't stand it anymore and twisted quickly around to ask Ayami exactly what was so fascinating about himself that she'd ignore her aunt's request, only to find the doorway empty. Ayami had gone to aid Noriko a good five minutes ago.

With an unreasonable dread, Harry lowered his head slowly, further and further down, until he was staring straight into a face that looked more likely to have been carved from bone than china. Minnie was propped against the door, ever a regular, temporarily forgotten toy. Ayami could've left her somewhere easy to spot since whatever Noriko needed help with required two hands, Noriko might have even suggested she leave it outside to avoid getting in the way of clean up or accidentally thrown out with a ruined heirloom.

Harry told himself all this, but it still didn't stop him from leaving the hallway as quickly as he could to escape the doll sitting upright in the doorway, the prickly heaviness on his back didn't leave him until he was at the bottom of the stairs.

* * *

The next morning, the temperature in Ayami's room plummeted. It became a true freezer, the cold air wafting underneath the door burned against the contrasting summer heat. Shibuya had banned even exorcisms from happening in that room now, Lin was watching it for any more changes.

All throughout the day, Mai continued to see murky shadows of the ghost children, mostly through the windows, but now she was startling from mirrors as well. Harry watched with concern as she hopped through rooms like a flighty deer, eyes darting.

"Maybe you should go hang out by the pond today," Monk fretted, he'd been hovering over her all morning and now that noon was pulling the sun high in the sky, Mai began to look impatient.

"They're trying to tell me something, I have to figure it out!" She huffed, glaring at the fluttering shadows playing across the floor from a tree outside the largest kitchen window.

Harry had to give it to her, she was dedicated to solving the case and braver than most adults. She had yet to ask after Hara's arrival or hide away in the headquarters, instead, she seemed determined to understand why the children were haunting her steps.

Harry wasn't too worried for her, the children were acting purely on their own and sightings were the most harmless form of supernatural activity there was. But he did have one concern.

"But why are they trying to contact you now? It only started last night and you've been here for days."

Shibuya straightened from his slouch against the counter, pinning Harry with the weight of his wholly concentrated attention. "Have the spirits changed their behavior at all?"

Harry resisted the urge to point out how unnaturally frigid it was in Ayami's bedroom not hours ago, clearly the spirits had already changed. But it wasn't the time to be snarky.

"They used to travel at random around the house," Harry mumbled, pulling at his glyphs. The situation remained the same, unfortunately. "But now, even when the woman isn't using them, the spirits are traveling in groups. That might be why they're powerful enough for Mai to see them."

Harry shifted to glance at the empty sitting room, "They're also staying in there a bit longer than before."

"Where the woman is," Monk hummed, he peered up at the ceiling, "But the activity is upstairs."

"So long as it stays in either room, I don't care. Just get rid of it soon." Kana Morishita strut past them, oven mitts fitted over manicured hands.

"Do you need any help with that?" Harry asked as she pulled her baked cookies out of the oven.

"Yes, if you could get a platter and plate together." She set the pan on the counter and began scooping shortbread cookies up with a spatula.

Harry had spotted her with a mixing bowl earlier and had smelled whatever sweet she was baking in the oven, but he wouldn't have guessed cookies at all. She didn't seem the type to like sweet things, and from the way she'd never strayed far from a brand new cookbook, this was a very recent interest.

"What's the occasion?" Monk got out of her way, but only just, eyes fixed upon the cookies.

Kana didn't look at any of them, stiffly dropping shortbread cookies onto a plate and platter Harry set up beside her. "No occasion, they're just- There's nothing wrong with giving a kid a treat every now and then, is there?"

Monk wisely remained silent as she sorted the cookies like one would legal documents, the razor straight line of her shoulders looking fit to cut.

Harry couldn't leave her there, floundering under a Malfoy-esque mask, "I'm sure Ayami will love them," He declared, "They look delicious."

They looked undercooked and a little lopsided, but what child didn't like a soft cookie dough center? And the white lie was worth watching the tightness in her face drop just the slightest amount.

Harry made to get out of her way so she could carry the platter to whatever room Noriko and Ayami were playing in, when Mai grabbed at his elbow, "Watch out!"

Harry dodged her hand, pulling back and to the right of where he had been walking, arms tucked high and away from her reach.

She wasn't looking though, already reaching down to lift a gleaming white object off the ground. "You almost stepped on her doll, that was a close one."

Harry stared at Minnie, dress immaculate and bows done tightly in her hair, not a speck of dirt on her. "I didn't know Ayami left her anywhere."

"I guess she forgot," Kana Morishita mused, stepping out of the kitchen on perfectly steady heels with the weight of the platter held to her chest.

"I'll go take it to her, I'm sure she'll be worried soon." Mai tucked the doll under one arm and set off after Kana. The way it hung upside down against Mai's hip made the head tip back, golden thread hair a smooth curtain, and its eyes never left Harry.

Harry deliberately didn't watch Mai or the doll leave. He stared down at the floor where Mai had found Minnie, by the bar and almost tucked under a stool. There's no way Ayami could've dropped the doll from that height without it at least making a sound against the floor, had she placed it there while no one was looking? He didn't sense anything coming from the doll, but it sent goosebumps up his arms.

"What's up?" Monk hung over his shoulder to get a peek at under the chair, "There a bug or something?"

Harry hopped out from under him, "No," He admitted, "That doll just really gives me the creeps."

Monk stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. "Are you serious? Really?"

Before Harry could say anything else, Monk snorted loudly.

"Aw man, aren't you precious. Dolls freak you out, huh?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Are you honestly going to tease me after you've been avoiding the outdoors since Mai saw shadows?"

Monk's idiotic grin dropped, "Hey, it's really hot outside! I'm not scared of anything out there, I just gotta look out for my skin!"

"Is that why you were sunbathing yesterday afternoon?" Harry asked innocently, had Monk really thought no one had noticed him pass out on the lawn for an hour with sunscreen smeared haphazardly across his face? They might be in a mansion, but it wasn't  _that_  big. He'd been plain to see for anyone walking by the office windows.

Monk drew himself up haughtily, "You're just jealous that I can actually tan. Guys like you and Naru look like you're half albino."

"And how can one be half albino?" Shibuya asked silkily, Monk and Harry flinched, they'd forgotten the teenager was still with them. "I didn't think it was possible, so please explain it to me."

Harry watched Monk flounder gleefully, but it was cut tragically short.

"Kazuya," Lin's clear, sharp voice sliced effortlessly through the lighthearted atmosphere of the kitchen. "You need to look at this, the temperature in Takigawa, Taniyama, and Matsuzaki's rooms are sinking incredibly fast."

"Ayako was in her bedroom! Is she still there?" Monk surged forward, ready to race up the stairs.

"She's already left, now come on."

Shibuya kept his attention on Monk as he followed after Lin, "What were you all doing today, anything together?"

Harry leaned against the stove, frowning thoughtfully. As far as he knew, those three hadn't done anything together. Matsuzaki and Monk had continued their exorcisms in different rooms trying to find a weakness, and Mai had been sniffing out children spirits whenever she wasn't playing with Ayami. Only Matsuzaki even spent much time in her room, what an odd focus.

Could it be only the children again? Harry ran his magic over his glyph.

He had only seconds to comprehend what he was sensing. The children were gone again, nothing but the dark, poisonous will of the woman, strung to her so tightly it was almost impossible to tell they had once been their own souls.

But she wasn't attacking those bedrooms, she was right in front of him.

He could almost feel the shadow fall over his head as her miasmic hand raised for the blow he was only noticing just then, huge and heavy and directly above him. He had been as blind as a bird before a patiently stalking cat.

He didn't even have time to react, he knew, there was no way he'd reach the hallway.

So quick, he nearly snapped it on the seam of his trousers, Harry tugged his wand out. Going with the momentum, not slowing down or pausing for a second, he slashed it through the air before him with only the tiniest of twists.

" _Protego!_ "

With the glow of a shield bursting to life, he almost didn't notice the orange tinge until it was too late. He spun around as the stove burst into huge plumes of searing, bright red flames. They lapped at his shield, singing his shirt and scorching the hair on his arms.

It didn't actually burn him, he'd thrown up the shield just as the stove sparked, but the massive burst of unnatural power feeding those flames nearly tossed him to the ground. He crashed against the bar with a wheeze, marble digging into his spine.

The woman wasn't finished, her outstretched hand was curling into a fist, urging those flames higher and hotter, swaying menacingly toward him. Black smoke stung Harry's eyes and instantly dried his mouth when he managed, "Fire again…?"

"Holy  _shit_!" Someone shrieked faintly over the roar, Harry didn't dare look away to find out who. He couldn't lose his grip on his runes, to lose track of the woman now wasn't an option. He watched anxiously as the woman's fist tightened and tightened, twisting the fire ever closer. She was determined to reach him.

A cold, thin hand wrapped itself around his shoulder with an unreasonably bruising strength. Harry found himself been reeled around the bar so quickly he nearly tripped over his own two feet before colliding with a bony wall. He tried to step back but only made it an inch or two before the hold constricted further.

"Cancel the spell while the smoke is still hiding it." Shibuya's voice hissed into his ear.

Harry blinked a little dazedly, pulling his head up from where he had been gazing at nothing to look up into Shibuya's sooty face. His eyes were flinty, his mouth fully downturned as he stared back.

"Takigawa!" Shibuya shouted directly into his face.

Before Harry could ask what he meant, a blur of motion flitted through his peripheral and the blasting of a fire extinguisher soon grew louder than the crackling fire itself.

"Now, you idiot!" Shibuya grit out, fingers still digging into the flesh of his shoulder.

Right.  _Right!_  Merlin, what was he doing gaping like a moron?

Harry hastily canceled the spell, the barely-there shimmer of it fading away under the protection of the billowing clouds of smoke.

He pocketed his wand in the next moment, and none too soon as Shibuya finally dropped his grip and Mai came blazing into the kitchen.

"Harry! What happened?" She cried.

Harry turned to the oven again, safely placed behind Shibuya and at the opposite side of the kitchen. Monk was extinguishing the paranormal fire, sweat pouring down his face as he coating all the counters in foam.

The flames were dimming, straightening into a much more natural shape, no longer curving into a bizarre spiral of ill intent. After a few seconds, it began to resemble a normal kitchen fire rather than a ghostly attack.

Harry pulled on his glyphs and gave an abject sigh of relief to find the children returned to their sentience and the female spirit a touch faded for her efforts.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Oh, he had ignored Mai.

Harry smiled reassuringly at the girl, "I'm fine, it didn't burn me."

"What happened? How did that fire start?" Kana and Noriko Morishita were at the mouth of the kitchen, terror plain on their faces. "The stove wasn't even on when I left!"

"Come on, let him breathe." Monk dropped the extinguisher, smeared inky with soot as he gave them all a stern look. Coupled with his strained panting and the residual heat and smoke from the now dripping oven right behind him, he made for an impressive figure. Both the Morishitas and Mai went quiet.

Once the room was silenced, Monk turned on Harry, "Harry, are you sure you're okay?"

He shouldn't forget this side of the man. For all that he was immature, Monk truly did care.

"I'm sure. And you?"

Monk let that sentence hang in the air for a minute, clearly trying to deduce whether or not Harry was lying. But he hadn't been burned, he wasn't even as blackened as Monk. Harry let him search his form without comment.

Satisfied, Monk dropped to the floor next to his fire extinguisher with a gusty sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine. But fires around here? In the summer? That was a bit more dangerous than usual."

"Was it...ghosts?" Noriko Morishita asked tentatively.

"It was the woman again, she started the fire." Harry nodded, "If you want, the cameras should've captured it starting completely on its own and getting far bigger than a stove is capable of."

"I'll say," Monk groaned.

Kana bunched her silky pencil skirt in her fists, "Oh my god," She said hoarsely, "Oh my god, why is this still happening?"

Harry approached her carefully, she seemed unusually ruffled, her eyes a bit too shiny. "It's going to be fine," He assured, trying to catch her eye and keep her from staring at the stained kitchen stove. "It's not as bad as it seems."

Kana tried to scoff, but it was more watery than derisive. "How is this not as bad as it seems? My kitchen tried to ki-ill someone today. A shelf almost crushed Noriko yesterday. And Ayami doesn't-..." The wrinkles in her skirt deepened.

Noriko smoothed a few stray hairs from Kana's forehead, "It's just a phase, you know that. She doesn't mean-"

"That's easy for you to say!" Kana tore herself from her sister-in-law, swinging to Harry's side. "She doesn't think  _you_ poison her food. A phase...I didn't buy that tripe from Keijiro and I'm not buying it from you."

Harry winced, perhaps she wasn't near tears over kitchen remodelling. From the pity on Mai's face, Kana's cookies hadn't gone over well with Ayami, who was conspicuously still in the playroom.

"This  _isn't_  as bad as it seems," Harry asserted, shuffling in front of Kana as boldly as he dared. "For two reasons,"

Loudly enough that he had everyone's attention, he brought his readings to light. "First reason, we're getting somewhere. The woman is working incredibly hard to make us leave, she's desperate to keep us off of something and we're closing in. This is way too much activity for just a normal reactionary haunting."  
Kana's eyes were beginning to dim, so Harry rushed to provide his second ray of hope.

"Second reason, she's weak. This is the weakest I've sensed her, she's pushed herself too far trying to burn me and freeze Matsuzaki at the same time, especially right after the shelf stunt. If we need a big breakthrough," Shibuya straightened, "this is our opening."

Like Harry had flipped a switch, Shibuya stepped forward with purpose, silver gleaming in his eyes, "Takagawa, Matsuzaki, I want you to cleanse the entire house."

Monk nodded and left with Matsuzaki, looking a bit like soldiers in their element.

"Ms. Morishita, I'll need Ayami's doll. I want to keep surveillance on it." Noriko nodded hesitantly.

"Do you mind if I wait until Ayami is asleep?"

"Whatever gets me the doll with the least amount of fuss," Was Shibuya's blunt answer.

"Mai, I want you to stick close to Ayami. Find out all you can about her relationship with Minnie and her guardians." Mai exchanged a look with Noriko before leaving the room as well.

"I want a good report by 10 AM sharp tomorrow," He called after her.

"Geez, do you even hear yourself? She's a little girl, I'm not going to interrogate her," Mai protested.

Shibuya visibly clenched his jaw, "Mai, for the past twenty-four hours you have been seeing dead children in this house. Do I honestly need to impress upon you how important your task is?"

Kana made a noise in the back of her throat, maybe a protest or maybe a whimper. Either way, Mai paled and didn't say another word.

"And Harry," Harry swallowed as Shibuya rounded on him next.

"I want everyone but you to be well rested for tomorrow. I'll call Miss Hara tonight and get her on a flight that will arrive by tomorrow, preferably with John Brown as well. They'll take over from there. In the meantime, you monitor the situation constantly and into the night. Set an alarm for yourself if you have to, but I need to know if and when the situation changes immediately."

"Right," Harry greatly approved of how seriously Shibuya was taking his assessment. This was their opening, if not to exorcise, then at least to get a great deal further into the case than before.

"All night after he was just attacked? And what exactly will you be doing?" Kana made a valiant effort to sound aloof, but the color had yet to return to her face.

"Working. I'll be looking into another lead I had." Shibuya turned to disappear down the hallway, "Spend your afternoon how you normally would, but keep close attention to the glyphs."

The children were cluttered in groups, most in the sitting room, but quite a few in the kitchen as well. The woman spirit was a weak thread of poison, atrophying the air around it but no further than that. If she didn't want to risk being dislodged by Monk or Matsuzaki, she would remain dormant.

"Seems like a pleasant boss," Kana Morishita grumbled,

Harry chuckled, "Tell me about it, I feel bad for Mai,"

She inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes for a moment. "Well, with a boss like that feel free to kill yourself with my poisoned cookies."

"Kana, she didn't mean it," Noriko looked like she wanted to try going in for a hug next.

Harry could recognize don't-touch-me vibes from a mile away though, and slapped a wide grin on his face. "Yes please, they looked like a very tasty way to go."  
"Harry!"

Ignoring Noriko's frightened glances, Kana very nearly smiled. "Well, unless Ayami threw them away to save her precious aunt, they should still be in the playroom if you want to follow me."

"Lead the way, I'll return the favor and make dinner."

Kana actually did smile then, very briefly, he could see it crack her foundation. "Only if it will kill me too, I don't want to be left behind in a place like this."

"It's a deal."

"That's not funny!" Noriko huffed behind them, pink with the effort it took to keep from laughing.

The beat of humor was a peaceful respite, a much different kind of warmth from before touched his skin. His grin became truer as they left the sitting room behind in search of undercooked shortbread cookies.

The woman's spirit was strong, but he thought the Morishitas might be stronger.

Now he just needed to worry about Ayami.

* * *

**I kind of just decided Mr. Morishita's name was Keijiro, I figured it would never come up again so please humor me.**

**What did you guys think? Unpredictable enough? What is this rising tension? I've never been good at maintaining those but I'm gonna give it my all here.**

**Also this is like shelf number five that should've definitely killed someone. What is Noriko made out of, cement? She didn't even try to dodge, that shelf hit her square in the face!**

**I'm actually trying to make Monk and Harry bond a bit in this case too, but it's kind of hard. I always end up writing Monk as being obnoxiously brotherly and Harry just isn't equipped to deal with that and they end up low-key fighting. Also Harry's very subconsciously intimidated by him, but that won't come up for a while. I think it might work out with a little bit of plotting…**

**And is this the return of number one cinnamon roll John Brown? Stay tuned!**

**And for all those sweet readers who asked about my bathroom, it's redone and looks very nice now. Thank you for asking. I even put in tile, so fancy.**

**Okay, there weren't any questions so that's all. I will DEFINITELY update sooner than last time so please bear with me!**

**I love you guys and your reviews so much, please leave one for this chapter if you'd like. They feed my soul.**

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post the rest later.


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